


The Maid From Bree

by Tamuril2



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Gen, Not Mary Sue, Some dark themes, but nothing past PG13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril2/pseuds/Tamuril2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the Lord of the Rings movies came out, Mary has been a fan of Tolkien. She's read and re-read every book, knows everything there is to know, yet even she could not have foreseen that she would be chosen to go to Middle-Earth. Not a Mary Sue (so no Legolas/OC or anything).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue- Falling Into Middle Earth

Most stories that involve a modern girl falling into Middle-Earth start with either a rainy night, ending up in the Fellowship, or being saved valiantly by some golden haired elven warrior, namely Legolas or Haldir. This story unfortunately, or fortunately as one may look at it, has no such beginning. It wasn’t a cold night; in fact it was rather hot due to the fact that it was mid-summer. It wasn’t raining either, and Wil Oakthorn was certainly not an elven warrior.

 

At forty years of age, Wil Oakthorn was the barge master in the town of Bree. His father, John Oakthorn, had been the barge master before him as had his father before him. In fact, as far as the people of Bree could remember, the Oakthorn family had ferried the barge of Bree since the beginning of the town. Wil was well liked, even if he did have a slight limp in one leg. His cheerful disposition and kind nature made up for this short coming though.

Usually, Wil did not go down to the river this late at night, but for some odd reason he could not sit still this evening. Something kept nagging at him in the back of his mind, pulling him towards the river, as if he needed to be there.

Maybe he had forgotten to tie the barge properly, his friend, Anna, the local healer, had suggested.

Wil scoffed at the idea. As if he would do something so careless. However, Wil trudged towards the river at the insistence of Anna. She had come over to deliver some herbs and had stayed to help with supper, but she said his pacing was distracting and had sent him out. Thrown out of his own home! Irritable woman. Kind, irritable, woman.

Upon reaching the barge, Wil bent to inspect it; nothing out of the ordinary. The ropes were knotted just right. Why then did he feel as though it was vital that he be here? Wil straightened, his back cracking loudly. He sighed.

Maybe it was just his imagination running wild…again. However, as he turned back towards his home a dark lump a few feet away caught his attention. The moon was high that night, so Wil was able to see that it was indeed a person, not some animal, which lay there. Worry lent speed to his feet and he was soon beside the figure. Closer inspection revealed that the person was a young woman. Wil hesitantly laid two fingers against her neck.

Was he already too late?

Was the woman dead?

“Please, Eru, let it not be so!” he prayed silently as he kept his fingers on her neck. There had been too many deaths this year. Several seconds passed before Wil gave a sigh of relief. He could feel the strong beat of her heart against his fingers.

“Anna!” he yelled up the hill, “Come quick!”

Sitting back on his heels and waiting for Anna to arrive, Wil gazed at the young woman. She was dressed strangely. Her clothes were too thin and coloured in mismatched designs. The shoes on her feet were made of a material that Wil had never seen before, though, on closer inspection, they were of better make than the clothes. She looked to be in her early twenties, with shoulder length black hair that curled wildly, and much too pale skin.  

A noble perhaps?

Wil was drawn out of his musings by the arrival of Anna. The older woman knelt beside the girl, her fingers checking for a pulse just as Wil had done.

“What happened, Wil?”

“I know not. I chanced upon her. Is she all right?”

“She seems to be…”

A soft moan sounded and the young woman stirred, opening her eyes for the first time. Dark eyes glanced about before seeing Wil and Anna next to her. The reaction was instantaneous. She shied away from them, a slightly frightened look on her face, only to stop herself halfway. She glanced about her worriedly before facing them again.

Wil gave her a warm smile, hoping to ease her high strung nerves, while Anna laid a kind hand on her slim shoulder. She flinched at the touch and Wil had to fight to keep the smile on his face from disappearing. What had happened to her that made even a simple thing such as a touch scare her?

“My lady, are you all right?” Wil queried. She gave him a puzzled look, as if she had never heard Westron language before now. Anna and Wil exchanged a look. Who did not know Westron?

“I am well,” she replied in Westron after a moment.

“What is your name, my lady? How did you get here?” Anna asked, her hand still on the woman’s shoulder.

“I…” her eyes became unfocused for a moment.

 

**~Earlier~**

            _“W-where am I?” Mary wondered as she gazed about her. Everything was white. Had she died? If so, how in the world had she **died**? She didn’t remember anything happening. She’d been in the library for heaven’s sake, checking out the book, The Silmarillion! Unless she’d had a heart attack – which Mary was pretty sure she hadn’t – she hadn’t died. But then that led back to the question, where was she now?_

_“Hello? Is anyone here?” Mary called, cupping her hands around her mouth._

_“Hello, child,” a motherly voice said from behind her. Mary whirled around and found herself face to face with two of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. One was a woman who wore a light green dress of medieval style and had long flowing blonde hair; next to her stood a man with black hair and long white robe._

_“Who are you?”_

_“I am Manwë and this is my wife, Varda,” the man explained. Mary gasped. The Valar! She was literally standing in front of the Valar! All her life she had dreamed of doing something like this, but now that the moment had arrived she found her voice had fled her and that her knees shook with some unknown fear._

_“Peace, child of Eru,” Varda said, her soft words seemed to flow over Mary and she was calmed instantly. How this was accomplished with only words, she did not know, but it was._

_“My lord, my lady,” Mary answered finally, dipping down into a curtsey. Peering up, she saw that both had smiles on their faces as they gazed at her. She felt like a child before them, but for some reason she was not embarrassed about the feeling._

_“Why have I been brought here? Have I died?” Mary then asked. If possible the smiles on their faces grew._

_“Why is it that almost everyone who comes here believes they are dead?” Manwë asked his wife._

_“Most are, husband,’ she replied easily._

_“True…However, child, to answer your question, no, you are not dead.”_

_“T-then why am I here?”_

_“In recent times, you have begun to doubt yourself and your value. Eru has seen fit to gift you with this rare chance. He wills that you be sent to the place you call Middle-Earth, to learn of your true worth,” Varda explained._

_Mary’s hazel eyes widened, “I’m being sent to Middle-Earth? As in the Lord of the Rings, Middle-Earth?”_

_“Yes, child,” Manwë chuckled._

_“But how am I going to speak to anyone? I mean, I know I’m a fan and all, but I’m still trying to learn Elvish. I don’t even know Gondorian or Westron. And what about my glasses? No one there wears glasses!”_

_“Your vision will be made better, so that there will be no need for the glasses and we will give you the gift of tongue, so that you will know all that is spoken to you and others will understand you,” Varda answered._

_“You will retain all your memory, but are forbidden to tell anyone about the One Ring, the Fellowship, or anything that pertains to such matters in the war,” Manwë inserted firmly. Mary nodded. That made sense. One change and history could be irreparably damaged for good._

_“Am I going to be an elf?”_

_“Do you wish to be, child?”_

_“Not really,” Mary admitted. The two Valar seemed somewhat surprised at this._

_“Indeed? Why is that?”_ _Varda asked._

_“I…I’m human, my lady, I don’t know the first thing about being an elf. I’d much rather be a human…plus I don’t want to run the risk of becoming a Mary-Sue.” This last statement was said in a hushed whisper, but Mary was sure from the amused smiles that they had heard it._

_“Very well, you shall remain human.”_

_“It is time to go, child,” Varda announced, waving her hand to open a hole in the whiteness. Mary could see a small town next to a river below._

_“How long will I be there?”_

_“As long as it takes for you to learn,” came the unhelpful answer._

**~Present~**

 

“I cannot remember…I cannot remember! Why can I not remember?”

The last statement was said in such a frenzied state that Anna had to grab both her shoulders to keep the woman from bolting away. The frightened look came back into her eyes as she was held still. Wil felt an overwhelming desire to protect her right then and there. Maybe it was because his own daughter had died just recently, Wil could not know for sure. All he knew was that he wanted to protect her from whatever it was that had so frightened her.

“Peace, my lady. Everything will be all right,” Anna crooned kindly.

“B-but, I cannot even remember my name! I c-cannot…W-where am I?” Here the young woman’s voice began to wobble.

“You are near Bree, my lady.”

“Bree? B-but how did I get here?”

“Peace, my lady,” Anna continued, putting a finger on the girl’s lips. The darker haired woman immediately ceased speaking. She looked at Anna expectantly. When she was certain the girl was calmer, Anna continued, “I will look after you until you can remember more.”

“B-but you do n-not even know me…H-how do you know I am not evil?”

Wil smiled, “You could never be evil, my lady. And as for not knowing each other? That is a technicality which I shall remedy now. I am Wil Oakthorn, the barge master of Bree, and this is Anna Whiteshell, the local healer. There, see, we are not strangers anymore.”

The young woman gave a little smile at this. It was a nice smile, pure. Its calm seemed to spread throughout her body.

“I-it is a pleasure to meet you, sir, ma’am. I am…” here the woman stopped and her eyes became misty with tears, “I’m afraid I do not remember my name.”

“Then I will just call you Sybil for now,” Anna replied, taking charge. Wil got up and held out a hand to both women. Anna opted to get up on her own power. Sybil, however, accepted his help gratefully.

“Sybil,” she murmured to herself, “I like it. Thank you.”

“No thanks is needed.”

“Will it not be strange for me to live with you?”

“Mayhap…but then I’ve never really cared what others think of me.”

“Truer words were never spoken!” Wil laughed. Anna sent him a mock glare of reproach. Sybil watched the banter with cautious eyes.

“T-thank you. I am most grateful for your help.”

“Well, then, that is settled,” Anna announced as they walked up the hill and towards Wil’s small cabin, “Tomorrow we will have to see about getting you some decent clothes.”

Sybil glanced down at her attire, slight worry in her eyes. “I am not decent?”

Wil chuckled, “No, no, not that way, my dear. You are decent, but I am afraid that those clothes you are wearing are not suitable for working in. They are almost threadbare.”

“Oh…I see…”

“Worry not, dear; I will have you right as rain soon!” Anna proclaimed as they entered into Wil’s home, “You have nothing to fear now.”


	2. The Maid Called Sybil

“Strider!”

“Gwador nin!”

A young man’s head came up at the calls, brown curls bouncing. His weathered face softened and a grin spread across it as he beheld the owners of the calls. Two elves, identical in looks, jumped down from stilled horses and ran towards the human. Aragorn laughed as two pairs of strong arms enveloped him in a hug. Oh, how he had missed them!

“Gwedeir! I did not know you were coming,” Aragorn gasped out as he was smothered. The two elves grinned at each other over the top of his head, while a few of the rangers that were about chuckled at the open display of affection.

“We wanted to surprise you, gwador,” the dark haired elf to his left replied, pulling back from the hug to get a better look at his adopted brother.

 “It is good to see you again,” the other put in, pulling back as well.

“Come,” Aragorn smiled lightly as he lead them a small space away where his tent was kept, “it is near midday and I have yet to sup. Would you join me?”

Both elves nodded. Once there they sat down beside the small tent and Aragorn stretched his sore muscles as they began laying out different assortments of food.

 Finally, Aragorn asked the question that had been burning in his mind since his brothers had arrived, “What brings you here, gwedeir nin?”

 “Glorfindel sent us on patrol here.”

“Did you dye his hair again?” Aragorn asked, chuckling under his breath.

“No! Why must you always insist on bringing that up?”

Another chuckle was the only reply given.

“We were passing by and learned of an encampment of rangers that were staying nearby,” the elf to Aragorn’s left supplied.

            “It did not take us long to find out that you were also here and, seeing as it has been five months since we last saw you, we thought we would come over,” the elf to his right continued.

            “You have lost weight,” the first elf commented in what seemed to be an offhand manner. Aragorn raised an eyebrow. Overprotective, that’s what he would categorize his brothers as. Worrying where there was no need of worry, but then, Aragorn knew he did the same in return so he could hardly criticize.

            “I am fine,” he answered automatically. Both elves glanced at each other with a knowing look. Aragorn winced as he recognized the look. Too late he realized what his reply would mean to them. ‘Fine’ was the unspoken way of telling someone that they were in fact the opposite of ‘fine’.

            “Fine, is it?” the second elf queried.

            “Not that ‘fine’,” Aragorn countered before they could say another word, “I mean, I am well and in good health.”

            “Indeed,” the second elf continued with more than a little sarcasm, “And just how ‘well’ are you when even a human could see you are exhausted? If Adar were here he would be giving you athelas tea and telling you to rest. I know you are a ranger now and have obligations, but I am also just as sure you take on far too many duties.”

            “Elrohir, please,” Aragorn said, his eyes pleading with the first elf for help. Elrohir chuckled and laid a hand on his twin’s shoulder.

            “Peace, Elladan, I believe our little brother has seen the error of his words.”

            “I think not,” Elladan countered, though his elven brother was quick to see the mischievous gleam in his eye, “I have been telling him thus for many a year and I have yet to see any fruits come of it.”

            “You are worse than a mother hen, Elladan,” Aragorn groaned, “It is not my fault that Sauron’s dark forces have decided to increase their activities in this area. I am not the only human here that is exhausted and in need of rest.”

            “Peace, brother,” Elladan cut in, “I merely jested with you. I too realize the duties of a ranger. That being said, I cannot stop my worry for one of my brothers. You know you would be doing the same to me if our places were reversed.”

            “True,” Aragorn admitted with a smile.

            “So, how are things, Estel?” Elrohir asked.

            “A few minor attacks here and there, but on the whole nothing noteworthy, yet.”

            “That is good,” Elrohir said as he accepted a slice of bread.

            “If the attacks are not many, why then are so many of you still patrolling this area?” Elladan queried, snatching a piece of bread.

            Aragorn gave a sigh and his face seemed to age again, “We were about to send some of the men home, when there came reports of a Nazgûl sighting. Evidently, some of the villagers saw one not three weeks ago. There were five sightings in under a week.”

            The piece of bread Elladan had snatched stopped halfway to his mouth, “You are sure of the validity of these sightings?”

“Yes, the men and women who reported these sightings are respectable people. Their word is thought well of.”

“And you are sure none were drunk?”

“Yes.”

“And what is being done about it?” Elrohir pressed.

            “We are keeping watch, but as of a week ago there have been no more sightings.”

            “How long will you stay for this?”

            “I am unsure,” Aragorn admitted, “We will keep someone here regardless, but if there are no more sightings we will leave in a week’s time.”

            “Aragorn, one week is not enough time!”

            “Do you not think I know this?” Aragorn hissed under his breath, “I advised as such, but was outvoted.”

            “When we return to Imladris, we will ask Adar if he can spare a few warriors to help with the watch here,” Elrohir announced softly.

            “That would be most welcome indeed.”

            There was silence for a few minutes as the elves digested the news. Ringwraith sightings were rare, the last had been many years ago, and to have so many at once, in such close proximity, was indeed worrisome.

            “Has anything else strange occurred that might have drawn their attention?” Elladan asked at last.

            Aragorn began to shake his head, “No, not that….” He left off and his eyes narrowed in thought.

            “Brother?”

            “Perhaps it is nothing…but, there is a woman who now lives with the local healer at Bree. She appeared several months ago and claims to not know who she is or where she came from. The people call her Sybil.”

            “Such stories are rare, brother, but not unbelievable,” Elrohir interjected kindly.

            “True,” Aragorn conceded, “but, having grown up with elves, I have learned to tell if someone is lying and this woman is. She knows exactly who she is and where she came from. And…and I believe she knows of me.”

            “Well, you are well known in Bree, **_Strider_** ,” Elrohir reminded him, teasingly stressing his fake ranger name. Aragorn shook his head again.

            “No, that is not what I mean, Elrohir. The way she looks at me when she thinks I am not looking, it is not curiosity. She knows of me, of who I really am, of this I am almost certain.”

            “Do you sense an evil from her, Aragorn?”

            “Should we not warn the people of Bree?” Elrohir added.

            “No, I do not believe a warning is necessary yet. When I first found out she was lying, I studied her from afar.”

“And?”

“I do not sense any evil from her at all. She is one of the most caring and thoughtful people I have ever seen. She helps all who ask and even those who do not. She is kind to all, even if they are not kind in return, though I am told she can sometimes have a temper if someone insults her friends. On first glance, she is one of the most open people you will ever find.”

“And do you think that the sightings of the Wraith and this new woman are interconnected in any way?” Elladan queried.

Aragorn’s brow furrowed in thought. “I had not thought of that, but now that you mention it, it is strange that both this woman and the Ringwraith appeared at almost the same moment.”

“Mayhap, we should keep a closer watch on her in the future,” Elladan suggested, his lips pressed thin in thought.

“It might be wise,” Aragorn agreed.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~

 

            “Good afternoon, Sybil,” the jolly voice of the fruit hawker boomed. He was a round fellow with a contagious smile and brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with some private joke. The smile on his plump face dimmed when no answer came to his call and the laugh lines about his eyes creased as he narrowed his eyes.

            “Sybil?” he called yet again to the young woman. It was unlike her to ignore anyone. Mayhap something was wrong.

            _Sybil better answer soon….wait, that’s my name!_ “Yes, Theo?” Mary answered quickly as she turned to face the hawker. Even after being in Bree for two months, she still sometimes forgot that her name here was Sybil, not Mary. It didn’t happen often enough for people to become suspicious, yet Mary inwardly cringed every time she forgot. She had to make this act perfect or someone might become wise to her façade.

            “Is everything all right, Sybil, you seem distracted?” Theo inquired hesitantly. He, like most hawkers, was a man for gossip, kept the people coming back. However he also knew, as did everyone else in Bree, that if you pushed Sybil too hard for information she closed up immediately. A man of his business did not get far if he ignored these kinds of detail.

            “Everything is fine, Theo, thank you for asking, “Mary replied, making sure a smile crossed her face, “I was just thinking of the recent rumours of the dark riders. Are they true?”

            Instantly, as Mary knew it would, Theo’s face returned to its earlier cheerfulness and he took on a sly look as he leaned closer. Mary unconsciously leaned in towards him.

            “Indeed it is true,” he whispered in reply. “Five sightings in less than a month; it has never before been heard of, least not in these parts. Has some folk’s scared, thinking of moving, they are.”

            “Is it really that bad?”

            “Maybe, maybe not,” Theo shrugged, “All I knows is that it’s scared a lot of people, especially since it seems to have drawn more of those rangers in.”

            “The rangers are involving themselves?” Mary said, her eyebrows rising, though when she thought about it, this did fit into their realm of expertise.

            “Seems so,” Theo sighed dramatically, “If you ask me, we are better off without them. Secretive lot, they are. Downright unnatural how they can appear and disappear without you knowing it. Always sticking their noses into other people’s business and whatnot, they are.”

            Mary nodded though she was far from agreeing. These people didn’t even realize just how much they owed their safety to “those rangers”. When reading the Tolkien books, Mary had always been impressed that the rangers had been able to cope with being so ostracized and after meeting a few of them she was even more impressed. Not just anyone would stay around and protect a bunch of people who openly despised and distrusted you.

            “I have to return to Anna, Theo. Thank you for the news,” Mary stated and gave a small curtsey.

“None of that curtseying, remember, missy,” Theo chuckled and waved a shooing hand at her, “Now run along, else Anna will worry.”

Mary grinned sheepishly and walked away. Several other people called out to her along the way and she stopped each time to talk to them for a short while. Soon though, she was back at Anna’s small hut and breathing in the mixture of spices and herbs that scented the abode. Mary relaxed slightly as she hung up her brown cloak on the peg next to the door.

 _So,_ she mused, _the rangers are here._

Mary still remembered the first time she had laid eyes on Aragorn. Had it not been for someone slipping his ranger name, Strider, she might never have known. However, as soon as she had heard the name Mary had immediately known who it was and had been hard pressed not to stare at him every chance she could.

Aragorn, or Strider, was indeed as handsome as many girls imagined. It was not hard to see why Arwen had fallen for him, Mary smirked. He had a rugged look about him that made you take a second and third glance at him. His dark hair curled and his eyes, his eyes held so many secrets and knowledge. It was as if he could see into your very soul.

“Back so soon?” Anna’s voice cut into Mary’s thoughts. Mary nodded slowly.

“There were not many people at market today, so I was able to get the supplies quickly.”

“I would have thought the youngsters would have kept you.”

“There were a few, but it seems the others were with Lucy today, gathering flowers and leaves for the autumn festival.”

“And where was Burin today?”

Mary blushed and ducked her head, “I know not.”

Burin Muckleberry was the blacksmith’s apprentice. At first glance, Burin was intimidating. He was five foot seven, an unusual height for the men of Bree, with pronounced muscles and broad shoulders. There wasn’t an inch of fat to the boy. His face wore a perpetual frown which kept most outsiders daunted and he hardly ever spoke to anyone, even those of Bree. He was also one of the few people who had befriended her in her early days in Bree; all the others had been too suspicious of her to try.

Mary loved the quiet, gentle way about him. He never said much to her, but when he did it was well thought out and meaningful, never a word wasted. It was he who had been the one to finally convince her that hiding her face behind the hood of her cloak because she had a readable face was not the answer.

 

(Start mini flashback)

_“So, others will know what you think and feel. Why should that matter?” Burin asked as he hammered the new sword into its final shape. While the sharp noise echoed harshly in Mary’s ears, she found it also soothing in its rhythm._

_“They could use it to their advantage,” she defended, looking down and unconsciously twisting her hands._

_“Then do not let them.”_

_“It is not that easy, Burin.”_

_“Yes, it is. People like that will find a way whether you hide your face or not. By hiding you acknowledge that they have won.”_

_“…”_

_“You have a pretty face, Sybil, do not let fear hide it behind your hood,” Burin stated firmly as he lowered the red hot sword into the tepid water bucket. Mary blinked. Pretty? Her? Never in the same sentence._

(End mini flashback)

           

            Needless to say, Mary had had a small crush on the boy ever since, though she had been sure to try and hide it. How Anna had ever found out about it was beyond her.

            “I find that hard to believe,” Anna teased. “However I shall not push the issue…for now.”

            Mary smiled, “Would you like some help with the herbs?”

            “Always.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~

 

            “Why can we not have a fire? It’s cold!” Dirar complained in a loud whisper, hugging his thick cloak around him close. Several of the younger, dark skinned men glanced at the boy. Dirar was new to the group and had yet to feel wrath of Umaarah’s tongue or Haashim’s fists. No matter, he would learn quickly…or die. The men cringed slightly as they watched Haashim stalk up to the boy, remembering their own past experiences with the man.

            “There are rangers about, boy,” Haashim hissed into Dirar’s unsuspecting ear. The boy started violently.

“The light of a fire would bring them all down on us in minutes. Would you rather suffer the cold, boy, or spend a night explaining what our mission is to the rangers? Would you like to betray the master?”

            Each sentence widened Dirar’s dark eyes and made him flinch in fear. “N-no, I would never betray the master!”

            “Are you sure? I would hate to have to find out where your true loyalties lie while in the midst of battle,” Haashim took out his long dagger and let the tip of it play with the palm of his right hand.

            “Y-yes, q-quite sure.” Dirar swallowed, his mouth suddenly done as dry as the dirt of their homeland. Haashim grinned and gave him a wink as he slipped his dagger back into its sheath.

            “Good.”

            Dirar let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as Haashim left. The man reminded Dirar a snake, so calm and seemingly at ease, while inwardly ready to strike. He could just imagine that very same dagger plunging into his heart or slitting his throat. He almost pitied the young girl that they were to capture soon…what was her name again? Sybil? Dirar shuddered, though this time was not because of the cold. Better her than him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it's not too mushy and Mary Sue-ish.


	3. The Darkness of Fear

She was running, her feet pounding into the earth beneath her, her heart thrashing against her chest as if it wanted to tear free. She was running to escape, but to where she hadn’t a clue, nor did she care. All Mary cared about was that she got as far away from those men, those agents of the Sauron, as possible. She hadn’t the foggiest idea how they had found her, how they knew about her, but they did, and now she was running for her life.

A branch raked its thorn like branches against her cheek, cutting it, but she didn’t slow. Fear unlike any other had filled her entire being. It fueled her feet into going faster; it seared every other thought out of her mind until only the need to escape was there. Escape! She had to escape. There was no telling what men like that would do to her if they caught her. It was at times like these that Mary cursed her vivid imagination. It went on a wild rampage and played horror on her emotions.

She tripped over a tree stump, nearly fell, caught her balance, and continued on.

Why?

Why did this have to happen to her?

Why now?

Things had been going so well. The people of Bree, though some were still wary, had come to accept her. Burin had been visiting Anna’s hut to see her twice a week. Mary had, after he’d asked three times, finally agreed to go to the Autumn Festival with him.

Why now?

Why, why, why?

Tears filled Mary’s eyes. She stumbled over another root and slide down a small hill, mud grounding itself into her nails and shoes.

She’d never asked to come here in the first place. Ok, her other life hadn’t been all that great either, but at least there she hadn’t had the need to lie about her name. At least there, she hadn’t had to run from psycho bad guys working for an evil lord, who was intent on taking over the world. Mary scrambled up a steep bank and ducked into a thick tree patch.

She gasped for breath and clenched her cramped stomach. She seriously needed to work out more! Of course, she hadn’t thought she’d have the need to be running like this so soon, but still she should be more fit than this. Mary leaned against one of the trees and listened intently. Other than her own heavy breathing and the wind in the trees, she could hear nothing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Mary remembered hearing some hunter on TV saying that if the forest was this silent it meant that the animals knew there were hunters in the forest. Great, she hadn’t lost them then. Thanks for the Eeyore cloud Discovery Channel!

She pushed off the tree and crept out of the grove. The muscles in her legs felt like they were on fire and she couldn’t seem to get enough air, but Mary knew she couldn’t stay in one place for too long, not if she wanted to keep away from those men – that particular knowledge was from some fantasy books. She crouched low and glanced about. Nothing was in sight. She heaved a sigh of relief. She stood and headed north, towards Imladris, Rivendell as it was known in Bree. When she begun this run, Mary had remembered that Imladris was known as a place of protection for all men and women. Besides, she couldn’t think of another place to go to that would be as safe.

Mary turned around a large oak tree and came face to face with the largest, black man she had ever seen in her life. A scream made its way to her throat as she skidded against the wet leaves, but before it could pass her lips the man’s large hand had clasped itself tightly around her throat, and all that came out was a choked gurgle. Her eyes widened and her hands scratched at his violently.

“Stop,” the man said firmly, “You will not escape again. Now, stop fighting or I will be forced to hurt you.”

Mary stopped as the hand around her throat tightened threateningly.

“Good,” the man grunted, “Now, I will let you go, but make no mistake, you will not escape. Already, the others are closing in. Resistance would be folly. Am I understood?”

Mary tried to reply, but found that she couldn’t with his hand on her throat, so she nodded instead. A few moments later, his hand went away from her throat and hers went instantly to the throbbing muscle. Her breath came out in rasps that stung the inside of her throat and she was sure there were, or would be, bruise marks on it later.

“You listen well,” the man rumbled in his deep voice, “It is good. I have no wish to harm you.”

“Then why help those capturing me?” Mary rasped out, throat still sore.

“I must,” he replied, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. Each of his steps equaled two of hers so Mary was soon forced to jog slightly to keep from being dragged.

“You know what they will do to me, do you not?”

“Indeed.”

“Then why?”

“I have no choice.”

“Everyone has a choice!”

“Not everyone.”

“Why?” Mary demanded, wondering where in the world this rare bout of courage was coming from.

“I do what I must to protect my family.”

“Oh…” Mary was silent for a few moments, “I am sorry.”

“You should save your pity for yourself….you will need it.”

“Cheerful thought,” her sarcastic tongue responded before she could stop it. The man glanced down at her, his eyebrow raised, but said nothing. The two of them were joined by a score of ten men and then, all-too-soon, they were arriving at a large grove where more of them waited. Upon entering, a thin, Asian looking man stood up and strode over. Mary instantly recognized the goateed man as the leader, Umaarah.

“Ah, good, you found her,” Umaarah called, “I was beginning to worry.”

“Kashim found her.”

“Then maybe it wasn’t such a waste to bring the slave after all.”

There were callous laughs at this and Mary felt the hand holding her elbow tighten marginally. So, Kashim was a slave. That explained much of what he had said to her. Despite her position, Mary did feel a bit of sympathy for the man, though not enough to forgive him for helping in her capture.

“Hello and welcome to our abode, my dear,” Umaarah announced as he waved a hand at the grove about them. Mary wisely kept the ‘thanks, I’d like to leave now’ to herself. It would not be in her best interest if she was sarcastic to these men – Kashim might forgive her blunt tongue, these men would not.

“I will not tell you anything.”

Umaarah snorted, “You may think that now, my dear, but I can guarantee you that you will want to tell us anything we want by the time our master is done with you.”

“I will not tell **him** anything,” Mary ground out, hoping she sounded more confident then she felt.

“Going against his wishes are never in your best interest, as your young companion found out,” Umaarah tapped on the battleax hanging from his belt.

 

**~Earlier~**

_“So,” Mary started, kicking the colourful dry leaves that littered the forest ground with her shoe, “are you looking forward to tomorrow’s festival?”_

_At the loud snort to her left, Mary glanced over at her companion. Burin was smirking at her and Mary felt her cheeks warm with a blush as she looked away._

_“What? It is an honest question, is it not?”_

_“Indeed, but not a necessary one.”_

_“What else would you have me say to start you talking? The weather?” she retorted with some small amount of heat in her voice. She felt a rough hand lay itself on her shoulder, stopping her. Fingers cupped her chin and brought it up until she was looking into Burin’s green eyes._

_“I am looking forward to it. Especially our dance,” he said slowly, eyes never leaving hers. Mary felt a silly smile forming on her lips and found she was unable to stop it for showing itself. Burin smiled as well and hooked a stray piece of hair behind her ear._

_“I like it when you smile.”_

_It was perfect, this moment, and Mary wished it would never end. There had been no one like Burin back home and she was sure there never would be. For the first time since landing here, Mary was glad the Valar had let her have this chance. Suddenly, loud clapping interrupted the blissful moment. Both of them stiffened and turned towards the sound._

_Not three feet away from them stood twenty of the largest, meanest looking assortment of men Mary had ever seen. They all wore mismatched clothing that looked as if they had seen better days. If the smell coming off them was any indication, they not washed in several weeks, if not more. Mary’s nose crinkled in distaste. The only thing, in fact, that looked vaguely impressive, besides their muscles, was their numerous weapons. Mary had never seen so many weapons on people before._

_“Who are you and what do you want?” Mary heard Burin’s voice ask as he stepped in front of her. Several of the men snickered at this, while one of them stepped forward, an unkind smile plastered on his long face. Mary unconsciously drew closer to Burin._

_“My name is Umaarah, leader of the Dram. We, my companions and I, would like the chance to talk to your little lady friend…or rather our master would,” the man, Umaarah, replied smoothly. As soon as she heard the last part, Mary knew who these men were. They were dark friends, servants of Sauron. But how had they found out about her?_

_“I believe you have the wrong person, sir. Sybil has lost her memory and knows nothing.”_

_“McKiernan?” Umaarah turned to a red haired man beside him. The pale man licked his lips, ran his gaze over her twice, and nodded hard._

_“It is her, my lord. I have no doubt.”_

_“You see, boy? There is no mistake. Your Sybil is the woman we seek. Now hand her over, boy, and you will not get hurt!”_

_She felt Burin glance down at her and she looked up at him, shaking her head violently. He gave her a tender smile, not even questioning why it was she didn’t want to go with these men, before glaring at the men before them._

_“I apologize that you have come so far for nothing. The lady does not seem to wish to go.”_

_“You make the mistake of thinking she has a choice, boy,” Umaarah snarled, the smile now gone from his face, “We will take her. You would be wise to hand her over peacefully and forget you ever knew her.”_

_“I cannot,” Burin replied, taking his battleax from his belt. Umaarah seemed surprised at the action for a split second before he grinned, taking his own weapon, a broadsword, out._

_“As you wish, boy, though you might regret this later on…in fact, I guarantee you will.”_

_“Mary?” Burin said, never letting his eyes off the advancing men._

_“Yes?” Mary whispered as her heart went to her throat._

_“Run.”_

_“What?”_

_“Run. Now.”_

_“B-but –”_

_“Now!” Burin shouted, “I will distract them!”_

**~Present~**

 

“Ah, Umaarah snickered, patting the ax, “I see you’ve noticed my little token.”

“Where is he?” Mary snarled, surprising herself and the men around her with her tone, “Where is Burin?”

She struggled against her captor’s hold while the men chuckled at her fruitless actions. Umaarah laughed the loudest and the beginnings of what Mary was sure was hatred formed in her heart. She’d never hated someone before, never thought she could, but Mary knew this was what she felt for Umaarah and his men.

“Where is he?”

“Burin? Was that his name? We took care of him.”

“You are lying! He lives!”

Umaarah grabbed her chin and pulled her closer. “Is that what you think? Then let me correct that assumption. He. Is. Dead.”

Mary felt something in her crumple up and die. Her struggles stopped as her mind caught up with what Umaarah had said.

Burin was dead?

Dead?

No!

He couldn’t be dead! They were supposed to be going to the festival tomorrow. They were supposed to dance! Burin could not be dead! He just couldn’t…but he was. Umaarah had said so. No one with that much conviction in their voice could be lying.

“No,” she heard herself whisper, “He can’t be.”

“He can and is, my dear,” Umaarah replied letting go of her chin and straightening, “Bind her, Kashim. Make very sure the knots are good and tight.”

“Yes, sir,” the black man intoned as he dragged her to a vacant spot. Mary hardly even noticed as he tied her wrists together in front of her and chained her ankles. There was a roar in her ears that deafened everything and blocked out all other thought.

Burin was dead….and it was all her fault. He’d died because of her; because of the knowledge that she possessed. She had killed him. It might have been Umaarah’s sword that had dealt the killing blow, but it was his association with her that had caused him to be there in the first place. If she had never come here than he’d still be alive right now. Tears fell down her cheeks and Mary made no effort to stop them.

“I am sorry,” Mary heard Kashim say. She shook her head and stared at him with burry eyes. She could see pity in his eyes for her, but not enough that he would help her. A coarse laugh made them both jerk. Another man stood close, watching them, a leer on his face.

This man also looked to be from Harad, though his eyes were strangely blue. A mixed marriage or infidelity, Mary supposed. His black hair was long and tied in a high ponytail. Dirty armor, much too large for him, hung from his shoulders. A small knife hilt stuck out from his right boot and a sword clanked on his left side. A whip also hung from his belt and Mary could tell by the way he fondled it that the man was used to handling the weapon.    

“What a pretty sight. A maid weeping for her fallen knight,” the man purred, stooping down and reaching over towards Mary. A finger blushed against her cheek, “I could help you forget about him, girl.”

Mary drew back, terrified by his insinuation. The man gave a short bark that Mary was sure was supposed to be a laugh. He reached out again, but Kashim arrested his hand before it got any closer.

“Enough, Haashim, Master Sauron has order that she not be harmed in any way before he sees her.”

Haashim ripped his hand from Kashim’s grip and sent the taller man a seething glare. “Watch your tongue, slave, or I might have to rethink about what happens to your family.”

Mary was sure Kashim would back down at that, but was surprised when Kashim stood and blocked Haashim’s view of her. “The master said.”

“Fine,” Haashim humphed, “But when this is over girl, you will be mine.”

Mary let out a small sigh of relief as Haashim stalked off. “Thank you,” she breathed out, her hands shaking. Kashim glanced down at her.

“Do not thank me yet. Haashim is a vindictive man. What he wants, he usually gets sooner or later.”

Mary couldn’t even think of a reply to that, nor did she want to. Haashim seemed to be the very image of what evil men were supposed to be. Softer footsteps rustled across the ground as a young boy drew near. It was nearing dusk and Mary could feel the chill of the autumn night air setting in.

“Yes, Dirar?” Kashim’s serious voice rolled out as the boy got closer.

“M-master Umaarah sent me over with some supper for her and with his wishes to see you immediately,” Dirar stammered, nearly dropping the bowl which he carried in his nervousness. Mary was not sure if he was nervous about Kashim or her. Kashim gave a quick nod and strode away towards the fire. Dirar and Mary watched him to before looking at each other.

“So,” Mary said at last, “I get fed?”

That seemed to snap the boy out of his stupor and he hurriedly shoved the hot bowl into her bound hands, spilling a bit of the scolding liquid on her wrists. She sucked in a breath with a hiss and gave him a mini glare which he gave back to her.

“Eat,” he commanded.

“But my hands are tied.”

“You fingers still work, do they not?”

Mary sighed and lifted the bowl to her lips. It had been worth the try, not that she had really expected the boy to fall for so simple a trick. The soup was warm now and whatever it made of it was not half bad, in Mary’s opinion. Tasted like chicken. Had her brother, James, been here Mary was sure he would have said something along the lines of ‘Why does everything new to eat seem to be labeled “tastes like chicken”?’

A smile curved her lips despite her dire situation. James had always known how to make her smile, even when they were little. They had been the best of friends – not that they hadn’t fought once in a while. The boy watching her narrowed his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded; hand on his dagger as if he expected her to rush him. Mary shrugged and wiped her wet mouth on her sleeve.

“Nothing.”

“Then why did you smile?”

“Old memory.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you done yet?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The thanks seemed to catch the boy off guard and he blinked at her before grabbing the bowl from her outstretched hands. “Why did you thank me?”

“You did not have to feed me.”

“It was Umaarah’s decision, not mine.”

“Still, you were the one to give it to me,” Mary pressed on, “Besides, my mother always taught me to be polite to others.”

The boy said nothing as a look of puzzlement came over his face. He turned on his heels and hurried back to the fireside. Mary watched him go. This was bad. No, this was worse than bad. She was in more trouble than she cared to think about; if Haashim didn’t get to her first, than Sauron would later. She was quite literally doomed.

Overhead the clouded sky rumbled ominously in an agreement.

Sauron.

Now there was a dark thought. Mary knew that at the end of the journey these men would give her over to the Dark Lord. Tears filled her eyes as realization hit her. Sauron! Everything she’d ever read about the man said that he was evil incarnate.

A cruel, merciless being that would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. The sky rumbled again and a few cold drops hit Mary’s bare skin. She didn’t know if she’d be able to do this. Would she be able to keep the ring and her other secrets against the tortures Sauron surely had waiting for her? Silent tears began to fall down her cheeks and, as if pitying her, the heavens poured out their misery as well.

“Get some sleep!” Mary heard Umaarah call out over the rain.

Sleep?

Men and women were scurrying under the cover of foliage and wrapping themselves in their blankets. Her tears mingled with the rain.

Sleep?

Sauron was going to beat her half to death, if not closer.

Sleep?

She was on the verge of panic.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

“Strider!” a frantic voice echoed down the hallways of Imladris, “Where is Strider? I must speak with him!”

In the study, Aragorn and Elladan pushed their chairs back and leapt to their feet. The chess game forgotten. Their other brother, Elrohir, and best friend, Legolas, were quick to follow suite.

Aragorn poked his head out the doorway, “I am here! What seems to be the problem?”

“A message hawk just arrived with news.”

 “And?”

“Harad men appeared near Bree not soon after we left. They killed a local apprentice, Burin, and captured Sybil.”

Aragorn was sure his face had drained of colour by now, “You are certain of this?”

“Yes. The others ask for assistance.”

“Gather all the rangers you can find. We’re going after them,” Aragorn commanded as he whirled around and headed for his bedroom. He did not have to look behind to know his orders were being followed.

“Aragorn?” Legolas queried, “Who is Sybil?”

“A woman who appeared in Bree some months ago. She is said to have no memory of who she is or where she came from,” Aragorn answered as they entered into his room.

“You do not believe this to be so?”

“Not entirely.”

“It seems your assumption about her was correct, Aragorn,” Elladan put in. Aragorn nodded absently, his mind already on where the Harad men would most likely be headed.

“Elladan, please ask Adar to send a message to Lothlorien so that they may post watches for them, in case we are not fast enough.”

“You think that she is of that much importance?” Legolas asked again. Aragorn paused in his packing to raise an eyebrow at his brown haired friend. Legolas held up his hands. “Peace, Aragorn. It is not that I do not feel we should let them have her, I merely wonder why they have any interest in her.”

Aragorn shrugged and lifted his pack over his shoulder, “I know not, but anyone who is of this much interest to the enemy must be important.”

“Then I will come with you.”

“As will Elladan and I,” Elrohir added, “You will need all the help you can get.”

“Come, “Aragorn waved with a grateful smile, “Let us not tarry any longer than needs be.”


	4. The Lothlorien Pillars

“Finally,” Mary heard Dirar mutter under his breath. Mary glanced at him, puzzled.

“What do you mean, ‘finally?’” she whispered, inching nearer so their conversation would be somewhat private. Dirar hugged his thick cloak closer, nodding towards something ahead of them. Mary looked forward and saw in the distance several large stone pillars surrounded on the left by a wall of shaded rocks. She tilted her head to the side, squinting at them. They were huge, giant really, but Mary, try as she might, couldn’t recall seeing or hearing about them in any of Tolkien’s books.

“What are they?” she asked.

“The Lothlorien Pillars.”

“The Lothlorien Pillars? I have never heard of them.”

“You haven’t?” Dirar’s eyes widened with shock. “How could you have not have heard of them? They are famous!”

“They are? For what?”

Dirar opened and shut his mouth for a few seconds, most likely still surprised that she’d never heard of them before. “They are where the legendary Golden Warrior, Glorfindel, was found!”

“Found? You mean after his battle with the Balrog, after his death?”

“After his rebirth.”

Mary had always wondered if the theories about Glorfindel’s rebirth were true. One of the older men beside them chuckled and shook his head.

“Ya can’t always believe them fairytales, boy.”

“But it’s true!”

“Have ya ever seen the Golden Warrior, boy?”

“No, but –”

“Then how do ya know it’s true?”

Dirar couldn’t seem to come up with an answer for that. He settled instead for a sullen sulk instead, not looking at either of them now. The other man chuckled again and increased his speed to catch up with the others ahead of them.

Mary gazed at the fast approaching pillars and rocks. Up close they were even more impressive. At first guess, she’d say the pillars were about twenty to twenty-five feet high, most likely more.

They’d make for a great hideout or attack position. Mary thought, remembering her older brother’s long talks about military strategies. She missed Tom and his speeches now. They might’ve been boring at the time, but she’d have given anything to be with him now instead of where she was.

“We stop here!” Haashim said from the front. A few sighs of relief were heard. They’d been marching nonstop since before the sun had come up. Mary was glad for the rest bit herself. She sat down on a large boulder nearby.

“A week more and we’ll be in Mordor, girl,” Umaarah said as he sauntered up to her. He gave his traditional smirk. Mary sent him a glare, not the wisest of things for her to do, but it was better than admitting to the rising fear she felt as those words. Umaarah gave a callous laugh and stomped off to speak with Haashim. Mary shivered as the cold wind from the north picked up, whipping its way through the campsite.

“You should rest while you can,” Kashim said as he came beside her. “I will keep watch over you.”

Despite her fear, Mary found her eyes closing, worn out from the long trek through the mountains. She sent Kashim a grateful look and slide to the ground.

 

OoOoOoOo   

 

            “Captain Rumil. The Dram have stopped to rest at the entrance of the pillars,” a young ellon said in an almost-whisper.

“How many?”

“Nineteen men in all, plus a few horses and the woman.”

“Does the woman appear harmed?”

“A few bruises, but mostly tired. She was attempting to rest under the guard of a black slave when I left.”

“And you are sure none noticed you?”

“None, captain.”

“Good,” Rumil said with a nod and turned to the rest of his contingent, “Now, half of you to the summits with your bows, while the rest of you with me on the ground. Archers will begin the attack. While the Dram are confused the ground troops will attack from behind. Stealth will be our ally in this. Understood?”

His troop nodded their silent agreement.

“Do we attack now?” Lithuriel asked.

“Yes, we can ill afford to wait.”

Half the ellons sprinted to the pillars and rocks, bows in hand. Rumil watched them go and then turned to the rest of the elves.

“Come, we must get into position!”

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Terror filled cries penetrated deep into Mary’s sleep. The smell of blood and clashing of swords finalized her awakening. Her eyes flew open. There was a battle swirling about her! The cries, she realized, had come from a young Dram member across the campsite. A large gash lined one man’s stomach where a sword had slashed him. One of his companions lay dead beside him, fueling the man’s panic, and her own.

Tall, lithe men ran without hesitation through the campsite, defeating the men they encountered with ease. Arrows streamed through the air, aiding the attackers. Mary struggled back against one of the pillars and some rocks, trying hard to keep out of sight. Who were these men attacking the Dram? Where were Kashim and Dirar? It was no surprise that Umaarah was nowhere to be seen. She’d pegged him as a man who would fly to save his own skin rather than fight an unwinnable battle. But why would Kashim abandon her?

It seemed Haashim and one other man were the only Dram left. Mary took that back a second later as one of the attacking foresters – for that’s what their clothing indicated they were – ran Haashim’s companion through. Now, only Haashim was left. The foresters turned their undivided attention on Umaarah.

Quicker than Mary would’ve thought possible Haashim was beside her, pulling her out from her hiding place and before him. The ridiculous saying of ‘hiding behind a woman’s skirt’ flashed through her mind before Mary concentrated on being very still and breathing slow. The other men drew nearer, their swords in hand.  

“One more step and I slit her throat,” Haashim said from behind her. To emphasize his point he grabbed a fistful of her black hair, laying his bloodied sword against her bared neck. Mary had always tried hard to never let anyone see her emotions, especially when she was afraid, yet when she felt the sword brush against her skin a sudden fear enveloped her and she whimpered softly. This wasn’t how she’s planned on going to from this world.

The men stopped at the threat. Mary just knew Haashim was grinning in victory. Never underestimate the power of another’s pity.

“Leave the child out of this, human,” one of the men, maybe their leader, said. Haashim laughed. Mary wondered what the other man had meant by ‘human’. She didn’t get time to ponder it long though. Haashim’s sword pressed deeper into her skin. Mary felt a warm liquid slither down her throat.

Blood!

Panic began to fill her.

“It seems a lot of people have recently been telling me that same thing.” Haashim took a step back.

“You should listen to them.”

“I’d rather not. Besides, she’s my only guarantee that you won’t kill me. I think I’ll keep her with me a bit longer.”

Mary drew in a sharp breath as Haashim started to back away from the men, dragging her with him. She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. She was going to die today. She sent a quick prayer up to Heaven, trying to ready herself. The wind blew a little, a bird called out from behind the men, and a dull fear rested in her chest. It was funny the things one took notice of at times like these.

“Do you trust me, little one?” the leader of the men asked, his blue eyes resting on hers.  Haashim laughed again. Mary decided she was getting annoyed with that laugh. If he was going to kill her she wished he’d do it and be done already.

“Little one, do you trust me?” the man said for a second time. Mary looked into his eyes and, despite the fact she didn’t even know this man, found she did trust him.

“Y-yes.”

“Then, do not move a muscle.”

Mary froze, even as Haashim tightened his grip on her hair. “Yes, girl, don’t move. Do not struggle. Let me kill you.”

As the sword swept out to plunge into her stomach, Mary fought against the urge to struggle away. The forester had said not to move and she trusted him. She didn’t know why, but she did. Haashim’s laughter echoed through the rocks as his sword started to descend. Mary closed her eyes, unwilling to watch. There was a twanging sound, followed by a brief rush of air by her right ear.

Haashim let out a sharp cry of pain and let go of her, his body thudding on the ground behind her. Not expecting him to release her, Mary let out a stunned squeak as she fell to the ground, the sword dropping into her lap. She stared at the bloody sword and then glanced back. A long arrow protruded from Haashim’s chest, just at the heart. Mary blinked. It was an expert shot. Surprise was written all over Haashim’s face, as she was sure it was on hers too.

“Are you alright, child?” a voice close to her asked. Mary turned to find one of the foresters’ inches from her. Much to her annoyance, she squeaked again. That was twice in one day she’d squeaked. What was she, a chiwawa?

The man was close to her face, too close for her liking. Far too close. She could feel his breath on her face, the smell the woodsy aroma coming from him. A forester or ranger? Whatever he was, or wasn’t, she could tell he didn’t mean her any harm…she still didn’t want him this close though.

“Child?” She could feel his hand on her forehead. Images of Umaarah and other men flashed before her eyes and before she could think she shrank away. At once, the man withdrew his hand, as if she’d burned him. Her cheeks burned hot when she looked away.

“I’m sorry, I di–” he began.

“No,” Mary interrupted. “I should apologize. It’s just…I’m…I’m not used to people, that’s all.”

 _Liar! You big, fat, liar!_ Her mind screamed at her.

 _Shut up!_ She spat back to it.

The man raised an eyebrow at her reply, but said nothing to contradict her.

“I see…I still apologize,” he held up a hand as she opened her mouth to contradict him again. “We should continue on before more men come this way.”

“They were alone, at least as far as I know.”

“One can never be certain. They might have been planning on meeting more of their own along this way.”

Mary nodded. Haashim and the others could’ve been planning to meet more before they crossed into Mordor. Strength in numbers. It made sense or at least she thought it did. She was drawn out of her musings by the man’s voice. He was talking to the man who seemed to be the head.

“We need to go, Rumi–,” the commander shot a glare at the man before her, “…sir.” The ‘sir’ sounded a bit odd to Mary, as if the man was unused to calling his commander by the title.

 _They must all be very close._ Mary mused. It made sense though that the commander didn’t trust her enough for her to hear his name. After all, she was using a fake name for the same reasons.

“You should watch the way you address me in the company of humans,” the commander said, a stern look in his eyes.

Mary blinked in surprise. They were speaking elvish, quite fluently for that matter! That would mean that they could only be one of two things. A ranger or…

 _Wait a minute, the commander said ‘company of humans’, didn’t he? Almost as if they’re not human._ Mary glanced at the man before her, taking a closer inspection. She almost started in shock. He had pointed ears beneath his blonde hair!

 _That means…This…I’ve been rescued by elves!_ Elves who thought she didn’t speak elvish. All of this took less than a minute to process in Mary’s mind. She focused back on the arguing elves.

“But Rumi…” The commander gave another glare, more forceful this time. “…sir. She’s a mere child. What harm could she do? She was a captive of the Dram. Doesn’t that vouch for some of her character?”

“We do not know enough about her.”

“But…”

“Remember your place! Remember those of us who made the mistake of trusting humans?”

Silence followed this statement. The other bowed his head in acceptance. “I apologize, sir. I was out of place.”

“Untie the child and make ready to travel.”

The man – no, elf – turned towards Mary with a veiled look of vexation on his face. She watched him as he drew nearer, cautious. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to untie you now, please relax.”

Soon he’d made short work of the ropes. Mary rubbed her chaffed wrists and ankles, gazing with interest at him.

_An elf, a real, live elf! I can’t believe my luck! I’ve always wanted to see one!_

“And what, pray tell, is so interesting about me, little one?”

Mary blanched, feeling as if she’d been caught doing something rude, but then straightened and gazed full at him.

“You are an elf,” Mary said, leaning forward.

The looks of shock mixed with surprise that formed on each elf’s face were almost comical. The elf in front of her cleared his throat after a moment.

“Indeed, I am an elf.”

“I’ve never seen an elf before. I–”

“How do you come to speak Quenya, human?” the leader asked, stepping forward, a frown on his brow. Mary blinked in confusion.

_Quenya? What is he…? Oh, cuss! I’m speaking elvish, aren’t I? Cuss, this is bad!_

At least, she thought it was. Not many humans spoke the elvish language, Mary knew that for a fact. She’d forgotten all about the Valars gift of tongue. Mary shook her head and stared up at the leader. Time to pull the ‘I’ve lost my memory’ act.

“What is Quenya?” she asked.

“The high elven language,” the leader said, his tone clearly stating he didn’t believe for a moment she didn’t know what it was.

“I’m speaking elvish?” Mary said, making sure her tone sounded surprised, which wasn’t too hard seeing as she was surprised. Everything she said sounded like English to her. It was easy to forget that she could speak multiple languages. The leader’s frown deepened.

“Yes.”

“I…I did not realize I was.” Well, at least, that much is true.

“You speak it quite well for a human.”

Oh, there was a definite undertone of threat in that sentence.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said, ducking her head. She was. She hadn’t meant to make things awkward, or to give them a reason to mistrust her. For the first time since landing on this place, Mary found herself despising the fact the Valars gave her the gift of tongue.

“We must leave,” the leader said, his tone curt. The change of topic made Mary’s head spin. Without further ado, she was pulled up with a gentle hand and moved along a path through the rocks. The faces of the elves about her were taunt, watchful, as they marched along. Mary felt uneasy around them, though she wasn’t quite sure why she felt that way. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

_You lied to them._

_Not really. I just…_

_Didn’t tell the absolute truth?_

_I didn’t…I couldn’t…It can’t be helped! Besides, the Valar? Who would believe me anyway?_

“We will be at Lothlorien within the evening,” the elf beside her said, pointing to a dark line in the distance. Mary assumed it must be Lothlorien. She hadn’t known they were so close before. Mary’s first impulse at the news was a feeling of relief. Lothlorien, the Valley of the Singing Gold, a place of rest and protection to those who were granted passage. Mary could feel her muscles loosening at the mere thought of being there. She wondered if it would be as beautiful as it’d been presented in the movies and books.

Maybe she would get to see Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel while she was there. It was then that a second thought, or rather feeling, filled her.

Alarm.

 She barely noticed as her steps faltered to a stop. How could she have missed it? Lady Galadriel, if the books and such were true, could read others minds. She could read hers! No, this was bad, very bad! The Valar had said no one could know what she knew, and that meant the Lady of the Woods as well.

“Child?” a musical voice said next to her. Mary jumped and stared up at the elf, positive her fear was written all over her face.

“I…” Mary started, but then stopped. What was she to say? That she couldn’t go to Lothlorien? That would bring questions, many of them, none of which she could answer properly.  

“Is something wrong?” the leader asked, coming back to where they were stopped. How Mary wished she was one of those smart people who could lie their way easily out of things. But no, it was hard for her to even lie about her name, let alone think of a convincing one about her sudden stop. Maybe the ground would swallow her.

“Yes,” the elf next to her said at the same time she murmured , “Nothing.”

The leader raised a thin eyebrow at her, glancing between both she and her companion. There was a slight annoyance in his blue eyes.

“Indeed. I grow tired of your lies, human. What is wrong? Why have you stopped?”

“Nothing. I apologize. I was lost in thought.”

“Now, is not the time.”

“I was lost in thought!” _Great, Mary, yell at the elf that’s annoyed with you. That’ll make him trust you for sure._

The elf glared at her for a few moments, then turned around hard. “We must make Lothlorien by nightfall. Move out!”

He glanced at the elf next to her. “Make sure she keeps up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mary bowed her head as they started up again. This was not good. Not only did the elves not trust her now, but they were still heading towards Lothlorien. But what could she do? She had no power to stop Galadriel from reading her mind, no way to keep her secrets, no more than she had the power to stop this march.

 _Think positively. Maybe she won’t try to read your mind. Maybe she won’t find anything._ Mary swallowed a snort. _Yeah, and maybe I’ll grow elven ears and have the prowess of a ninja!_

 

They crossed a river, arriving at the edge of the Lothlorien forest toward the beginning of dusk. Mary’s breath hitched a little as she took the first step in. It was as if she were stepping into another space in time. When they waded through Nimrodel her aches and fatigue seem to seep out of her and disappear. The very air was warm with something ethereal. She was encircled by a forest of white and gold.

The mellyrn trees stretched far above her, their silver branches seem to reach for the starring skies. Some of the gold leaves fell from their swaying branches, glimmering in the fading light as they fell to their resting place on the forest floor. A soft breeze swept through the forest, kissing her cheeks and ruffling her dress. Mary imagined she could almost hear a voice in them.

_It’s beautiful._

“Indeed it is,” the elf next to her said. Mary started, not realizing she had spoken her awed thought out loud. A warm blush heated her cheeks and she ducked her head more. The elf gave a soft chuckle. Mary peeked up at him and the others. Lightheartedness seemed to be settling into the group, she could see it in the small relaxing of their muscles, though their eyes remained ever vigilant. The face of elf next to her seemed to sparkle with joy as he gazed at the trees near them even as his companions stayed hard to read. They were still prepared for battle if the need arose, Mary could tell, but they knew they were nearing home.

A whisper tickled her thoughts, starling her. She glanced around in what she hoped was a nonchalant way, but saw no one other than the elves of before. They climbed up a rope ladder of one of the mellyrn trees and onto a round perch. The whisper grew louder as the elves spread out their cloaks. Mary felt a presence crawling through her mind.

_Welcome, Mary Grayson._

The voice was feminine, yet held an ancient power in it, exuding the strength of ages past.

 _Galadriel,_ Mary thought as the greeting faded into the darkness of the night.       


	5. The Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be next week. Hope you enjoy.

Warm breezes stroked Mary’s nose to wake her the next morning. The sun’s rays were just making their ways through the boughs of the mellyrn trees, trickling in broken streams of light. The elves moved about with silent ease. Had Mary not seen them moving she would never have guessed they were awake, so hushed were their footsteps. She flung back the borrowed cloak covering her and sat up, shivering a little as the fresh morning air wrapped itself around her.

After relieving herself, an elf gave Mary some bread to eat. She watched the elves pack while she ate the small piece of bread. Surprisingly, it filled her.

 _One bite can fill the stomach of a grown man. Elven waybread, Lembas,_ Mary realized. It did taste as good as the stories had portrayed. She licked her fingers, savoring the crumbs. An elf near her smiled at her actions. She smiled back. Everyone’s manner was more relaxed than yesterday.

_I wonder if it’s due to the magic in this place or the fact that they’re nearly home? Maybe both._

“Move out!” The commander said, waving a hand forward. Mary got up, brushing some stray leaves from her dress. The elf who’d been assigned to her yesterday came up beside her when they started.

The march was a brisk on, yet Mary found that she did not tire as fast as she thought she would. Instead, a renewed vigor seemed to enter her spirit and body, urging her onward. All about her came sounds of the forest’s awakening. Birds twittered their songs, while other creatures darted across woodland floor. They soothed her, fueling her stamina even more.

She lasted two hours before her new found strength began to wean. When she stumbled for a third time the elf next to her led her to a fallen log on the side. Moments later, the commander appeared before them.

“Is all well?” Mary wasn’t sure if the question was addressed to her or the elf beside her. Rather than make a mistake, Mary erred on the side of caution, letting her guardian answer.

“Her fatigue seems to have finally caught up with her, sir.”

“We shall take a short rest then.”

“Thank you,” Mary said as the commander turned to tell the others. He glanced back, gave a curt nod, and strode over to the rest of the group.

“This is a most wondrous place,” Mary said to the elf sitting beside her, kneading her dress.

“Yes, it is, thank the Valar.” His tone was loving, reverent even, when he said this. Mary found herself captivated by it. After all the ages this elf had spent in this land, fighting countless evils, he still had the approach of one newly come, rather than that of an elder. It humbled her that he trusted her enough to see something so exquisite, for his attitude was exquisite to her. They rested for half an hour more before moving out.

When at last they reached Caras Galadhon, the heart of Lothlorien, Mary was exhausted and fearful. She did not know if the Lady Galadriel would be able to read her mind, or if she already had. Mary did know the duty, the rule, which Valar had placed on her though. Safeguard the information she knew. In essence, protect those who the Dark Lord had no knowledge of.

Had she been excited about living in Middle-Earth? Yes, well, until a few weeks ago that is, but she’d also been confused. She didn’t know why the Valar had chosen her for such a task. There were thousands upon thousands of other, stronger, fans who would be more apt for the job, though Mary couldn’t think of one right now. She felt silly for worrying about it, almost prideful for some reason. The Valar knew what they were doing. She just had to trust them.

_Though a few hints from them wouldn’t go awry._

“Come, the Lady wishes to speak with you,” the commander said, pulling her by the elbow from the group. Mary followed him without a word. There was nothing she could do now.

_Time to face the music, I guess._

Evening fell as they walked across pale lit paths, past curious whispering elves, until they reached a wide mallorn tree. Up brittle looking white stairs the commander took her, pausing only at the very top.

“Wait here.”

Mary stared after him as he disappeared into an adjacent room. She glanced about. The platform she stood on seemed to grow right out from the tree itself in a way that only elvish magic could do. Lights fueled by dancing fireflies lit the area. Below walked the tiny figures of elves. She would have stayed staring at the fairy-tale view forever if the commander hadn’t come back, gesturing for her to come in.

“They are ready,” he said. Mary took a deep breath, committing herself to whatever strength it would take to hide her secrets. She plunged in after the commander.

The room they entered contrasted with the one they’d just left. Twisting branches entangled themselves together, creating a sort of domed wall and roof over the space. Flowers the like of which Mary had never seen lined the edges of the floor, their stems vanishing into the cracks of the branches. The five petal blossoms were stunning. All had a golden yellow stretching from the middle of the bloom, yet while some faded into white at their ends, others flourished into a vibrant rose colour.

At the back of the room sat the Lady Galadriel and her husband, Lord Celeborn. Both were dressed in lengthy, cream garments. An imposing air hung about them, ancient and majestic in its force.

“Welcome, Mary Grayson,” Lord Celeborn said.

“You have traveled far, with much tribulation,” Lady Galadriel added in an even voice. Mary dipped into a low curtsy. The tickling whisper from the night before brushed against her mind. Mary tightened at the feel, putting as much energy as she could muster into keeping that whisper out. The feeling persisted, becoming more determined with each fleeting second. Then, just as Mary thought she could do no more, the whisper left her mind.

 _You are strong, Mary Grayson,_ Galadriel’s voice resounded in her head. _Stronger than any I’ve seen before._

Well, that wasn’t good. Now the Lady was suspicious.

_We shall speak again when you are rested._

Great, she would be sure to rest peacefully with that ominous promise in her mind. Mary took a quick breath. _Yes, my lady._

“You are wearied from your journey,” Galadriel said out loud, ending their brief inner conversation. “Rumil, please escort our guest to her quarters.”

“Yes, my lady,” the commander, Rumil, said with a low bow. Mary curtsied again to both elves before she followed the commander out. Down the steps they went, trailing most of the paths they had earlier.

 _So,_ Mary mused as they walked, _his name is Rumil._

Why did that sound so familiar to her? Was he a prominent character in the book? She didn’t remember a main character named such. A secondary character perhaps? Maybe…yet Mary still didn’t feel as if it were the right answer. Who is he? Why do I remember that name?

The question plagued Mary even as they climbed yet another set of stairs. She almost risked asking the elf in question, but restrained herself. It would be strange of her to say she knew his name. It would frighten him; make him more mistrustful of her character. There were enough reasons for him, and everyone, to mistrust her. She didn’t want to add to them.

“Your room,” Rumil said, opening the door. Mary peered in. Several candles placed in tall candlesticks lit the room in a welcoming glow.

“Erulassë will see to your needs,” Rumil said as an elven woman appeared in the doorway.

“Thank you for your kind help,” Mary said to Rumil, dipping her head. In the dying light outside Mary couldn’t be sure, but she thought the commander looked flustered at her words.

“No thanks is needed, my lady.” He dipped his own head, then walked away, leaving Mary with yet another new companion. Mary smiled at the elven woman in front of her. Erulassë gave a smile of her own, though Mary wasn’t sure if it was genuine or meant to lower her guard.

The elven woman waved her in. “Come, you must be tired from your long journey.”

“A little,” Mary found herself admitting.

The inside of the room was just as inviting as Mary thought it would be. The candles’ lights gave the room a dreamy tone to it. The shadows created only enhanced the feeling. A tall hole on her right formed a window, one that seemed to be natural, if abet magical. The bed to her left was large.

 _It’s as big as the king-sized one Mum owns!_ Mary felt her weariness of the journey creep back into her at the sight. _Bed. Soft, feathered pillows. Blankets._

It would have been a perfect moment had Mary not felt the touch of Galadriel’s mind on hers. In an instant, Mary felt all the tranquility flee from her, anger filling her instead. So, that was their game. They’d given her the room to help lower her defenses. And she’d fallen for it – hook, line, sinker, and rod! Mary glanced over at Erulassë. Was she part of the plan too?

The elven woman had her back turned to Mary, fixing some linen on the table by the window. Had she been in on it, Mary thought she would be watching her close, to see what reaction Mary would give to Galadriel’s touch. Or perhaps that was part of the genius of this plan. Maybe she was supposed to trust this ellath.

 _Is there no one I can trust in this world?_ A whimper escaped Mary’s lips before she realized it was there.

Erulassë appeared by her side, at once; worry the chief emotion on her flawless face. “Is something wrong? Are you ill?”

 _Please, leave me alone. I don’t know whether to trust you or not, and it’s killing me not knowing. Is your concern genuine or planned? How do I know?_ That was what Mary wished she had the courage to say. Instead she heard herself say, “Nothing, merely a headache from the long journey, my lady. I apologize for worrying you.”

Erulassë’s brow creased with frown lines. “If you are sure. Perhaps some tea might help?”

Mary grasped onto the suggestion with everything in her being, a drowning form clutching the only sliver of hope come in a sea of worries and doubts. “Yes, please. Tea would be much appreciated.”

Erulassë smiled, gliding over to an adjoining room by the bed. She seemed pleased to have thought of something to help. Several delicate clanks were heard, followed soon by what sounded like rocks hitting each other.

 _She’s making a fire for the tea!_ Mary realized, then felt silly for not realizing it sooner. What did she expect? A gas stove? Mary smiled at the modern thought, her first in a while since she’d come to this land. Erulassë peered out from the other room.

“The tea should not take long. Would you like to sup while you wait?”

“Yes, please.”

Erulassë quirked an eyebrow at her formal reply. Mary struggled not like the elleth. Erulassë reminded Mary of her best friend, Deirdre. Back home, she’d told Deirdre everything, from her fantasies with Tolkien’s world to her troubles at home. The fact that Erulassë acted just as Deirdre did made it all the harder for Mary not to confide in her. She ached all the more for a companion whom she could share her troubles with.

Despite her darkened mood, Mary found she had an appetite. The meal was a simple one of fruit, bread, and cheese. Still, to her starving stomach it was a feast. Erulassë smiled at her appetite.

“I am pleased the food agrees with you.” She gave Mary her tea. Mary smiled at the comment.

“Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

“We help all in need.”

 _Even those you mistrust?_ The stray thought saddened Mary. She wished she could find it in herself to trust this ellath, trust anyone for that matter. It wearied her to be on her guard so much. Even in Lothlorien, where she could feel the magic of the place trying to restore her peace, she stayed alert. The continual battle between this place and her instincts pulled at her very soul. Mary sighed, taking a long sip of the tea.

“Do you need anything else?”

Mary shook her head. “No, thank you. I am content.”

“I shall leave you then.”

Mary dipped her head in acknowledgment. Erulassë stepped out, closing her room’s door behind her with a soft click. Mary finished the tea, then got ready for bed. A hot tub of water lay in the next room, a light sleeping gown near it. Mary almost didn’t get out of the tub, it was so nice, but when it chilled she found that she had to.

It was only once in bed, after her prayers, the room dark, that her tears found their way out. She tried to stop them, will them back, yet they refused to be hindered any longer. She flipped to her back, allowing them full reign. Warm, salty, they streamed down her cheeks into her ears, onto the pillows, out of her soul. Stifled gasps that should have been sobs escaped her every now and again. When at last she stopped, Mary fell into a troubled sleep, worried what the next day might hold for her.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

“I would speak with you, gwador nin.”

Aragorn turned in his saddle to face his brother, Elrohir. The younger of the twins had a tense look about him. Gone was the light joking frame of mind of a few nights before. Elrohir looked his long years at this moment. Aragorn slowed his horse from the trot he had earlier been taking.

“Yes, gwador?”

“The Lady spoke with me last night.”

“As did she with me.”

“Then you know that the human woman has been rescued.”

There was a questioning tone to his brother’s voice; one that Aragorn knew had nothing to do with Sybil being rescued. “Gwador, speak the question that burdens your mind.”

“Did she speak to you of her concerns?”

“If you speak of how The Lady was unable to see her mind, then yes, she did.”

There was a pause before his brother said, “What are your thoughts?”

“Tis strange that one so young would possess such a power.”

“Suspicious.”

“Gwador, you let your fears proceed you.”

“I only state the obvious.”

Aragorn sighed, slowing his horse more. Elladan and Legolas rode up, both just as tense as Elrohir.

“It is not that we do not sympathize with her, Aragorn,” Legolas started, his eyes seeking Aragorn’s.

“We just fear what it might mean,” Elladan finished, his tone even. No one spoke for some times, letting their mutual thoughts mingle with this news.

“I too fear there is more to her than meets the eye.” Aragorn held up a hand to forestall the others. “Yet I will not pass judgment on her until I have spoken with her myself.”

He waited for any objections the others might voice, but none came. Relief gripped him at the silent support. Often times he feared taking on the role of leader, afraid of overstepping some invisible line. However, his family and friends should him time and again that those doubts were baseless.  It gave him the needed support for the difficult time ahead in Lothlorien, and he had no doubts that it would be difficult.


	6. The Secrets We Hold

_“Mary?”_

_“Mum? Mum, where are you?”_

_“Mary, please answer me.”_

_Mary started to panic. She could hear her mother calling her, but she couldn’t find her. Tall, dying grass surrounded her on all sides, weaving in a nonexistent breeze. Mary pushed some of the sickly stalks aside. “Mum, where are you? I can’t see you.”_

_“Mary…?”_

_Her mother’s voice faded off, disappearing. Mary ran in the direction she thought she’d heard her mother. Sharp grass slapped her face, her bare arms, her legs, trying to snag her. She fought against it. “Mum, please, where are you?”_

_“Mary, please come home.”_

_“I’m trying, Mum!”_

_Silence answered her._

_“Mum?”_

_Nothing._

_“MUM!! Muuuummmm!!”_

_No answer but the shifting of the grass. Tears began to stream down Mary’s cheeks. This couldn’t be happening, not to her. She’d done what was asked of her, hadn’t she? Why was she being punished this way?_

_Why?_

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Legolas let out a contented sigh as he strolled down the garden pathway towards one of the many rivers in Lothlorien. He and his companions had arrived early this morning after a hard ride. They’d been greeted by Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel being kept away by matters of state.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

_“Rest, friends,” Lord Celeborn said, bowing his golden head. “The Lady will see you later.”_

_“Where is the woman, Sybil?” Elladan asked. The others nodded their agreement to the universal question._

_“She has yet to awaken.”_

_“When are we to see her, my lord?” Aragorn asked, shifting his pack._

_Lord Celeborn’s composed visage did not change as he gazed on them all, grey eyes seeming to see everything. He folded his hands before him, the long sleeves of his attire adding to the commanding image. “The Lady has set the time of her meeting for the ninth hour this day. She asks that you attend.”_

_Legolas recognized the firm dismissal for what it was, as did his friends. Lord Celeborn might be Elladan and Elrohir’s grandfather, but he was still the Lord of Lothlorien and his duty to his realm came before all else, even family. They bowed before the ageless ellon, then were escorted to their individual rooms._

 

OoOoOoOo

 

If he were honest with himself, Legolas was rather curious about this woman called Sybil. She’d appeared from nowhere, attached herself with ease to the people of Bree – not an easy task – and then been taken by the Dram. There was something compelling about this woman that seemed to draw others to her. Legolas wondered what that something was.

Magic?

The rangers said she had demonstrated no such dark knowledge.

Some shady deception?

Perhaps. Yet the rangers avowed that she was not of this nature either. She was hiding, Aragorn said, but not from them. Legolas knew the rangers were adept in seeing the truth of others, so their declaration for Sybil, particularly Aragorn’s, held much influence.

Then why could he not shake his feeling of trepidation whenever he thought of the woman?

Legolas ran a hand through his auburn hair, frustrated at his indecision. _Mayhap I am creating more out of this situation than is needed._

The thought did little to ease his turmoil. The trees sang in welcome to his welcomed him, eager to speak with him. They tried to offer his mind solace, singing to him of joys long since passed. It helped a little to hear of their innocent tellings. He turned a corner on the path, knocking into a solid object.  

“Oomph!” the mysterious object said as he reeled from the clash. It was a young female human Legolas realized once he’d set his sense aright. She steadied herself against a nearby tree, surprise colouring her hazel eyes. Several black curls coiled around the sides of her thin face, giving her a bit of a wild look, while the rest was captured in a tight bun. She was dressed in an elegant royal blue gown that ended at her ankles, the tips of her white shoes only just visible. The sleeves stopped at her elbows, while translucent white silk completed the outfit by brushing her wrists. The neckline was modest, while still giving off an attractive air.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said in perfect Sindarin. “You are unhurt, I pray.”

Legolas managed to control the shock of hearing his native tongue coming out of her mouth with some difficulty. “Hurt only in pride, my lady.”

The woman smiled at his quip, shaking her head, her black curls bouncing with the move. “Ah, a most perilous blow indeed.”

She seemed to recognize her forwardness as soon as the words let her lips. She blushed a fierce red, ducking her head, her fingers twisting. “I…I apologize. Sometimes my tongue runs to away from me.”

Legolas let out a soft chuckle. It was rare that one of the race of men felt comfortable enough around his kind to joke. It felt refreshing to find one so young who bore no such unease. “Peace, my lady. The remark was well done.”

She relaxed into her former state at his reassuring words, a smile lighting up her face. “Thank you, sir.” She glanced about. “Were you admiring the gardens as well?”

“Indeed.”

“As was I. Would you care to join me, sir?”

Her continued frankness brought a smile also to Legolas’s lips. “I would be delighted, my lady.” He held out an arm to her. Her eyebrow raised at the gesture before she slipped her hand along the crook of his elbow. As they began to walk down the garden’s path again, the tree behind them rustled. A flash of forest green alerted Legolas to their previously invisible guard.

“I see you noticed my friend,” the woman said, her eyes caste down.

“You are watched?”

“Yes.” The admission seemed to bring her pain, a cringe running its course through her.

A nagging suspicion crept into Legolas now. “Why, my lady?”

“They…They fear what I might do, my lord.”

Legolas tensed, his suspicions confirmed. This was to woman, Sybil. Looking back, he could not believe how he had missed it. She was human, the right age and appearance. What other human woman would be here? How had he not noticed before now? Had she clouded his mind?

Sybil withdrew her hand from his arm, head bowed. “I apologize, my lord, I have made you uncomfortable. I shall leave.”

She gave a short curtsey before turning to leave the way they had come. Legolas reached out, arresting her flight. She tensed under his hold. Legolas took a deep breath. “You need not leave you do not wish to, my lady.”

She peered back at him, hazel eyes pleading for relief. “I…You would stay with one who is untrusted?”

He withdrew his hand, pondering her question in earnest. Did he wish to stay with her? How could he trust that she would not influence his against his friends? Yet even as he thought this he dismissed it. The ancient trees around him even seemed to encourage him to stay, their soft breezes assured.

“Yes.” He held his arm out again. She stared at it for several moments, then at him.

“Why?”

“Your company is enjoyable.” It was the truth. She stared into his eyes, as if trying to discern the validity of his statement. At last, she slipped her hand back in.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Legolas guided her along the path again. “Have you seen the crystal flowers?”

“There are crystal flowers?” Her tone was tinged with disbelief.

“Indeed. They lie not far from here. Would you care to see them?”

“Yes.” Her childlike eagerness flooded his soul like a soothing balm. He led her off the path towards the stream nearby.

“They are called thus for their translucent white petals.”

“But why crystal? Why not silk or glass?”

“There is a legend that says they grew from the pure teardrops of an elven woman after she learned that her love was alive. He had been thought dead after leaving to go into battle for the king. When she heard that he lived her joy was so great that when her tears fell to the ground they formed the seeds for the crystal flowers. Her name was Silima, which in Westron means Crystal, hence the name.”

“What a beautiful tale,” Sybil murmured, her eyes aglow with unconcealed awe. Legolas’s warrior senses warned him not to fall into a placid state with her. He knew nothing about her true character, this could all be an act to win him to her side, they said. However, despite his senses telling him otherwise, Legolas felt himself doing just that. The trees sang of their welcome to her presence, the magic of this place did not seem disturbed by her.

_Mayhap that is the deviousness of it all. Mayhap she has the power to fool even one as powerful as the Lady._

“Oh.” Sybil’s awed tone brought him out of his morbid musings. He saw they had reached the stream’s bank. Small, five petaled, white flowers budded along the moss, a carpet of light green and snow. Sybil let go of his arm, sinking to her knees beside the delicate blooms. Her fingertips caressed the ends of the petals.

 _How can this woman be evil?_ Legolas shook his head in confusion. _Is this a trick or the truth? How am I to tell?_

He covered his uncertainty by asking her a question. “What think you, my lady?”

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Mary stared up at the ellon. “They’re so pure.” It felt like such an obvious thing to say, though there wasn’t anything else that came to mind at the moment. She watched him study her, grey eyes seeming to watch her very soul. She didn’t mind however. For the first time since coming to this place, Mary felt peace enter her spirit. The harmony that had eluded her for so long had reached her.

Maybe it wouldn’t last. Knowing the meeting that would take place this afternoon, Mary doubted it, but for now, she would enjoy the gift permitted to her. She sent a quick prayer of thanks to God for it.

The ellon knelt beside her, his long fingers cupping a flower without harming it in the least. He wore a forester’s motley tunic and leggings, designed to help the wearer fade into the background.  “Your name is Sybil.”

It was said as a statement, one that made all of Mary’s guards come up. “Yes.” She refused to look at him, playing instead with some moss by her knee. He said nothing else. Mary wondered what was going through his head. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew who she was. Who else would be guarded in such a manner?

_If he knew then why did he ask me to stay?_

_Maybe he’s a spy for Her. The dark side of her mind joined in._

_No_! She shook her head, wishing the bleak thought away. It would hurt more than she was willing to say if that underhanded fact were so. It would mean that yet another lie had been given to her, instead of truth.

_Why else would he spend time with you?_

_I…_

_To gain information, you dolt! He’s a spy!_

_No._ But this time her refute was weaker, a part of her starting to doubt the validity of this new kindness. Mary skimmed her fingertips over the yellow embroidery along the bodice of her dress, hoping to distract herself. However, the feel of the rich material only heightened the morbid thoughts.

_Why would they give me such clothing? It’s fit for a princess, not a prisoner._

_Maybe because they want you to feel at ease?_

Mary sighed. Great, the soothing mood of just a few seconds ago was gone, and by one statement no less. This was ridiculous! She stood, brushing off the stray dirt from her dress with rough slaps, her anger at what she knew must be deceit rising.

 _How dare they do this! They’ve no right. I haven’t even done anything._   She heard the ellon call after her as she stormed off. She ignored the pleading cry, gathering the skirt of her dress up so she could escape faster.

_All I’ve done is live peacefully in Bree, get captured by Sauron’s men, and taken to Lothlorien. And now suddenly everyone’s convinced I’m evil. Evil!_

A small sigh escaped her lips. _Be reasonable. You know why they’re doing this. They can’t read your mind._

Her footsteps faltered at the thought. _And why can’t they? I certainly don’t have the power to prevent them….so someone else is doing…The Valar!_

 _Duh_. She scoffed at the sarcastic reply of her mind.

_So, the Valar put in precautions so no one could read my mind and take the information. Convenient._

_And dangerous. It makes you seem powerful. Even Galadriel can’t read you. This’ll only make them trust you less. How can they trust someone who keeps secrets?_

_Great._ Mary glanced up at the forest canopy. _You know, you could’ve made things a tad easier for us mortal beings, namely me._ It was no great surprise that the Valar ignored the sarcastic snipe. Mary was kind of glad they did. She didn’t want to deal with them too.

“My Lady!”

Mary flinched at the near voice. _He’s still following me?_

“Go away,” she said, glaring at him over her shoulder, her footsteps never slowing.

“Please, wait, my lady.”

“Why? So you can interrogate me?” The angry question was out before she could really think it over. She felt the warmth drop from her face. What had she done? Why had she said that? Now they knew she knew.

_Great, Mary. Dig yourself into an early grave, why don’t you?_

A firm hand suddenly grasped her left arm, stopping her flight. She ripped away. “Do not touch me.”

Silence. It was as if all around them, nature and magic alike, were waiting to see what happened next. Mary found she was holding her breath in anticipation as well. She let it out slowly. Nothing else moved, not even the soft breezes of before.

“You think I requested your company to learn your secrets?” The ellon’s voice was sad, almost as if he were sorry about her mistrust of him.

 _Oh, why not?_ Mary whirled on him, satisfaction running through her at his step back. She ignored the other elf nearby, her guard. “Why else would you be with me?”

“The trees spoke well of you.”

Mary’s heart froze for a second. “What?”

“The trees –”

“I know what you said. What do you mean, they spoke for me? Trees do not speak.”

“They do to my kind.”

Okay, this just went from weird to freaky. “Trees talk to you?”

“Yes.”

“Ummm…okay…” She glanced up at the canopy again. Unease filled her, forcing her into the only defense she knew, sarcasm. “They aren’t going to crush me any time soon, are they?”

He seemed offended by the notion. “They are not like that, my lady.”

“Sorry, I’m…This is new to me.” She twisted her skirt in her fingers. “So…they spoke for me? What did they say?”

“That you were good and that you needed a friend.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment filled her. How long had these trees been watching her to know all that?

_You do realize you’re humanizing trees, right?_

_I’ve gone off the deep end, that’s for sure._ “I…I feel faint, my lord. Pray excuse me.” She curtsied, never giving him a chance to reply, and let for her room. She needed to think this over. Work it out. Rationalize it all. Otherwise, her brain would explode…or she’d cry. She would like avoid either option if possible. Her elven guard followed in her wake.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

“Do you know why you are here, Lady Sybil?” Lady Galadriel said, her ancient voice penetrating all within the chamber. They were seated in the Elder Room, the starkest of all in the realm. Beautifully carved chairs lined the steel coloured walls, two large ones for Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn at the back. Smooth, round stones made up the floor and archway for the door. The thick oak door itself was closed at the moment, to give privacy to the meeting.

Aragorn watched the young woman in the middle of the room lick her lips, her hazel eyes darting around, fingers twisting the royal blue material of her dress. She exhaled. “You do not trust me.”

Surprise thrust itself into Aragorn’s heart, as he was sure it did to all others in the room. This woman, Sybil, did not play with words, it seemed. She spoke freely and with conviction. Lord Celeborn raised a white eyebrow, the only show of his own surprise. Lady Galadriel remained unruffled.

“Indeed,” Lady Galadriel said, returning the straight forwardness.

Sybil’s brow creased. “Why? Because you can’t read my mind?”

Aragorn wondered at her continued brazen attitude. It was obvious to all she was offended. He glanced at his brothers. Elladan, ever the warrior, was on the edge of his seat, grey eyes intent on the woman. Elrohir looked relaxed, though Aragorn knew he was observing every small detail. Both were dressed in formal attire; Elladan in forest green and Elrohir in red.

Legolas, best friend, had his chin resting on his clenched fist, thin eyebrows curved down into a worried frown. And with good reason, Aragorn mused. Sybil seemed to know about their unease, yet was doing nothing to relieve it.

 _Neither is anyone else._ His conscience reminded him.

 _True_. He agreed. _Someone must take the first steps toward understanding._

“If you know our worry, why do you persist in your actions?” Aragorn saw Lady Galadriel nodded her approval of his query. “Know you not how this makes you appear?”

Sybil turned her hazel eyes on him, her eyes falling to stare at her shoes. “I cannot stop.”

“What mean you?”

“It…” She stopped and seemed to struggle within herself over revealing her information. Elladan’s feet shuffled as he moved forward, his lips parting. Aragorn motioned him to remain silent, wanting Sybil to feel some resemblance of control. Elladan frowned, but acquiesced.

At last, Sybil raised her eyes to his. “It is not my own power that prevents you from reading me, my lord”

Fear blanketed over him. Was she a spy for Sauron? If so, why had she replied so easily to their questions? Was this yet another trick?

“Whose power is it then, my lady?” Lord Celeborn asked.

“The Valar.”

A silence the likes of which Aragorn had never heard before fell over the members in the room. He himself felt shock. How was that possible? Was the woman mad? Why would the Valar protect her mind? Who was this woman?

“You lie,” Elladan said at last.

She heaved a sigh, her lips drooped in disappointment. “I do not, my lord. I speak the truth.”

“Why would the Valar protect you thus?” Lord Celeborn asked, his hands steepled under his chin. His amethyst robe sleeves flared the ends, creating a dramatic picture combined with his perfect snow-white hair and blue eyes.

She shook her head and Aragorn saw her mouth Why not? “I possess great knowledge of things to come, my lord. Things which they forbid me from telling to anyone.” 

“Anyone?”

“Yes, my lord. I’m sorry if this angers you, but I must keep my promise to them.”

“Can you not tell us?” Elladan asked. He sat back a little in his seat. Trying to seem at ease, Aragorn supposed.

“No, my lord, I cannot. Even were you to threaten tortures most foul, I must keep my word.”

“Indeed,” Lady Galadriel said, her rejoining surprising all. “This explains much. You may leave to rest, Sybil. We have much to discuss.”

Sybil curtsied low, then left with two elven guards on either side of her. Aragorn sat straighter as the Lady Galadriel stood.

“What think you?” she said, her hands folded in front of her, eyes studying them. The silver coloured dress molded to her shape, the jewels gleaming in the fair light, yet these only seemed to enhance her imposing aura, not diminish it. She was a most daunting figure to behold, hair flowing in golden waves down her shoulders, sapphire eyes penetrating all within. 

“She is lying,” Elladan said. “Her tale is a wild fantasy meant to deceive us.”

“I am not so sure, gwador nin,” Elrohir said. “She seemed truthful to my ears.”

“Legolas?” Aragorn said, wishing to hear his friend’s thoughts before voicing his own. Legolas shook his head, chin still on his fist.

“I know not. When I was with her early this morning, my senses told me she was to be trusted, yet all within me rebels against her late words. How can one so young possess knowledge strong enough to warrant the Valar’s protection?”

“Exactly,” Elladan said, his conviction clear. “She is lying. We must protect ourselves against this new attack from the Enemy.”

“I do not believe so,” Aragorn said at last. “All that I have seen of this woman leads me to think she is telling us truths. She is no dark spy.”

“That is the brilliance of it. The Dark One knows we will sympathize with her plight, letting her into our trusted ranks, weakening us from within.”

“Yet she was captured by the Dram,” Legolas said.

“A ruse.”

“Are you so sure, gwador?” Elrohir asked.

“What else can I think?”

“That she is telling the truth,” Legolas said, calm in his belief. “One of the Enemy would take more precautions to make us believe and trust them, not make us doubt like Sybil is doing.”

“Indeed,” Lord Celeborn said, rising next to his wife. “My wife and I are in accord. Take this woman, this Sybil from Bree, to Imladris. Protect her and her secrets from those who wish her harm.”

“But –” Elrohir protested.

“The Lady has spoken.” And with that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel glided out of the room, the door closing behind them. Elladan and Elrohir wore matching gaps. Aragorn chuckled softly.

“It seems we will have a female companion for the trip home.”

Elladan spluttered. “Take her home with us? We are still unsure of her honesty.”

“Grandmother has spoken, gwador,” Elrohir said, placing a hand on his twin’s tense shoulder. “Have you ever known her to be wrong?”

“No.”

“You see? All shall work out for the best.”

Aragorn chuckled again as he and Legolas followed them out. “What think you, mellon nin?”

Legolas’s brown eyes glanced over at him. “She speaks well for one so young.”

“Indeed. Her Westron is impeccable. She spoke with grace in there.”

Legolas stopped short, his eyes wide. “What mean you? The woman spoke not Westron.”

The twins joined in. “Indeed, gwador, she did not. She spoke Sindarin.” 


	7. Unpleasant Surprises?

The Misty Mountain’s frozen peaks loomed over them. Frigid winds shrieked through the stones. They grabbed hold of the few loose strands of Mary’s hair peeking out of her hood, whipping her face with them. She shivered, drawing her motley elven cloak closer about. She glanced over at her companions.

Elladan, the most suspicious of the trio, stood close by. He never let her far from his sights. Aragorn walked close beside his half-brother. Legolas treaded softly above them, scouting ahead. Elrohir mimicked the Mirkwood elf on the other side, his keen grey eyes always searching for danger.

Mary sighed, the sound lost in the winds. Of the three, Legolas was the only one to try and treat her as a normal person. Elrohir and Aragorn tried to pry information from her whenever they could, Aragorn being the more subtle about it. Elladan seemed intent on distancing himself from her.

_Probably thinks I’ll put a spell on him or something._

“We shall rest in that cave for the night,” Elladan said. Mary jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice. She peered through the heavy snow to where he pointed. Thirty feet above them was a small cave opening, almost invisible in the blinding white. Sometimes, it still amazed Mary how sharp elvish eyesight was. She would’ve walked right by the cave, never even seeing it.

Mary followed slowly behind, the others agile abilities aiding them in finding footholds faster than she. A bruised ankle – courtesy of a snow-covered rock – and few stumbles later she came upon the cave entrance. Legolas and Elrohir had already arrived. Aragorn appeared through a back passage. Mary stepped inside, grateful for the brief respite against the winds constant pushing.

“The back entrance is open enough should we have need of it tonight,” Aragorn said, brushing some cobwebs from his leggings. A deep howl sounded off the winds outside. All heads turned to the cave entrance. Mary searched the white blur, even though she knew she would find nothing.

“No fire tonight,” Elladan announced after a moment. “The enemy is too close.”

“Agreed,” Aragorn said. He pulled his pack to him, searching through its contents until he came upon the Lembas bread. The bread was passed about, reaching Mary last. She broke off only a small piece, knowing even that would fill her grumbling stomach until the morn. She savored the taste for as long as she could. Outside, the winds howled in unison with the wargs. Mary shivered at the combined threats; one could freeze them to death, the other tear out their throats. She wasn’t sure which one she’d choose, if the choice ever presented itself to her.

 _Stop it!_ Mary berated herself, swallowing the last of the Lembas. There’s no reason to think this way. I’m safe with these people. Lady Galadriel charged them with my protection. I have nothing to fear.

Another howl made its way through the cave. Mary hugged her cloak closer. She picked at the fur edging on her new dress and leggings. _Nothing to fear? Riiight. There’s only orcs, wargs, and goblins running around…I’m not going to sleep at all tonight._

Legolas came over. Mary gave him a weak smile before turning her attention back to the cave entrance. A rustle told her Legolas had sat down beside her. Somehow, his presence made her feel safer. Almost like having her older brother watching over her. The feeling warmed her.

“Will we be safe tonight?” She felt foolish for asking such a childish question, but it was the one thing on her mind right now. She glanced over at him. No condescension touched his face. His sympathetic gaze should’ve made her bristle, would have had it been anyone else, but instead it made her feel, again, as if, again, her older brother were close by. This wasn’t someone who thought her silly for worrying about this. If anything, he understood it. Mary didn’t know how she knew this, she just did.

“The howls are far to the East,” Legolas said. “We have naught to fear from them this night.”

“Then why no fires?”

“A precaution. While the wargs themselves might be far off, their master’s scouts might not be. We need to think of all possibilities when in such traitorous terrain.”

Mary nodded. It made sense when she thought about it. There were always enemy scouts in the stories and such, so Mary didn’t see why real life should be different. She rubbed her hands together. “Will we encounter them at all? On our trip, I mean.”

Having a brush in with goblins, orcs, and worgols was not something Mary really wanted to experience. She wasn’t sure if she would do well in any battle. She knew little to nothing about any self-defense. She would hinder anyone trying to protect her. No, Mary really didn’t want to run into whoever those howls belonged to.

A small frown graced Legolas’s brow. “Not if we watch our steps.” He gave a little shake of his head, as if brushing off the dark thought. He smiled at her. “Worry not, Lady Sybil, you shall arrive safe at Imladris.”

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Lady Sybil gave him a tight smile at his reassurances. Legolas observed her as she return her gaze to the cave’s entrance. It was in this moment, as she hugged her knees to her chest, that he could truly appreciate her young age. She was new to this world, new to life. How he wished she would stay that way. Once he too had been as she, innocent of true harm, but that was long ago, before the shadows had touched his home.

A new howl rang through the frigid winds, its dark message lost to him. He suppressed a shudder at the harsh sound. Oft had he come across those foul wolf-like beasts from Mordor, slaying many that dared to enter his home’s forests, yet still they managed to lay a touch of fear in his heart at their cries. He let go a silent sigh. It was not often he let such dim thoughts invade his mind, rather electing to let them slither past him in supposed indifference.

“When shall we leave?”

Lady Sybil’s voice brought him back from his musings. He hoped the smile he gave her seemed genuine. “Aragorn has said that we shall leave at first light, once Elladan and I have scouted ahead.”

She nodded in understanding, drawing her knees closer to her.

“You should rest while you can,” Legolas said, staring off into the winter storm.

Lady Sybil let out a soft sigh. “Yes, that would be wise.”

She settled against the cave’s black wall, her head pillowed by her cloak’s hood. Legolas felt Elladan’s sharp gaze on them. A frown creased his brow. A part of him understood his longtime friend’s mistrust of the woman. She kept information from them, spinning a tale of the Valar and secrets. Yet, Legolas could not bring himself to fully mistrust Lady Sybil. Something – the way she held herself, the words she spoke – something made his heart believe her. 

He stood. Tonight was not the time to think on such deep matters. Tonight the enemy prowled the land. He and the others would have to keep watch, lest they be caught unaware. Legolas took out one of his twin daggers. His gripped on its white hilt tightened with each howl of the worgols. Tonight would bring no rest to him.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

The winds, if possible, were stronger than the day before. Mary struggled against them as she marched through the knee-deep snow. Her teeth chattered without stop and her body trembled with each new step. She’d long ago lost feeling in her feet and hands, fur-covered though they were.

At least the wargs aren’t howling anymore. Somehow, that thought brought on both relief and worry. She was glad the worgols no longer gave forth their cries, yet, although Mary abhorred them, the howls also let her know where the worgols were. Now that there were none, she could not stop the growing fear that mounted from the unknown.

_Where are the wargs? Are they near, tracking us? Or are they gone? If so, why’s they leave? They were out all night, searching for something. Why leave without it?_

_Maybe they found what they wanted?_

_Like what? A rabbit?_

_Not everything is about you, you know…_

Her inner sarcasm calmed her nerves a bit. Maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. It wasn’t set in stone that every orc and creature from Mordor was looking for her. Sauron couldn’t possibly know that she knew about the ring’s location and such…could he? She shook her head hard.

_Stop thinking like that! You’re giving yourself an even bigger ego. Focus on the present!_

Mary started as Elrohir appeared beside his twin brother. She had not heard his approach. Her eyes scanned the ridges for Legolas’s form, yet he remained hidden from her view. She thrust aside the bit of worry that brought. He was a grown man…elf…he could take care of himself. She shook her head. She’d done this to all her siblings back home too. Worrywart, that’s what they called her, though Mary was sure it was a term of endearment.

“Orcs scout the land around us,” Elrohir said.

“How close,” his twin asked.

“Just over the next ridge.”

Mary stiffened along with the others. _What’re they doing so close? Have they seen us?_

“Have they seen us?” Aragorn said out loud, echoing her worries. She drew closer to them, both to hear better and to give herself a measure of security.

Elrohir shook his head. “No. They have made camp, it seems. They’re…” He glanced at Mary for a moment, “…having fun.”

 _Fun? What is he…?_ Suddenly Mary recalled all the stories she’d ever heard of orcs. Her eyes widened. Their only pleasure was in the hurting of others. She cringed. Some poor soul was being tortured. The winds took on a new sound. Was that a scream she heard? A plea for help? Didn’t that one sound like ‘stop’? They weren’t that far from the orcs campsite. Hearing them wouldn’t be that hard. Mary pinched her arm to bring herself back.

Think rationally. The winds too loud for you to hear anything at all. Only elves would hear it…which is probably how they found them in the first place. That brought a new shiver down Mary’s spine. How awful would it be to hear something like that? She scanned Elrohir’s pale face, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She frowned. Didn’t this bother him? Someone was being hurt. Her frown deepened. Perhaps he was used it.

“How many are there?” Her calm voice surprised even her. Three sets of eyes turned to stare at her. She firmed her resolve. “How many?”

“Pardon, my lady?” Elrohir said at last.

Mary rubbed her arms. “How many orcs are at the campsite?”

“Twelve, maybe fifteen.” His grey eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“Is…”She felt foolish, but persisted. “Is there a way to save their prisoner…or prisoners?”

There was silence after her question. It persisted long enough for Mary to worry that she’d overstepped some invisible boundary with them. After all, she wasn’t one of them. She was a charge, a human woman thrust upon them by Lady Galadriel. She had no say in their actions.

 _It’s not like I ordered them to do it or anything. Get a backbone!_ Bolstered, Mary kept her gaze firm. She meant what she asked. If there was a way to save whoever was out there, she wanted to do it. If this were fantasy, she’d have done it herself. Imbued by some mystical powers – and kick-butt abilities –, she’d have charged into the orcs camp, defeated them with ease, and saved the innocents there. But since this was reality – is this really reality? – she had to rely on Aragorn and his bothers for this.

“Gwador?” Aragorn said at last.

Elrohir kept his gaze on Mary as he answered. “It could be done. They suspect nothing and the other orcs seem to have left with the worgols.”

“Where is Legolas?”

“Near the campsite.”

“Then we should hurry.” Aragorn turned to her. “Stay here behind those rocks until we return, Lady Sybil.”

He hurried off to the ridge Elrohir had pointed to before. The twins stared at her before following him. Mary waded through the snow banks to the rocks. Huddling down she waited. If she were honest with herself, Mary was surprised that they had left her by herself. Always they acted as if at any moment she might disappear. That they left her now, showed her how much they trusted her.

_That, or they know you’ll never last a day by yourself out here._

Mary chuckled. Or that.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Legolas heard Aragorn’s soft breathing, loud against his elvish ears, as he crept up to him. He wasn’t surprised that they’d come. He winced against the sharp cry the orc’s whip brought from the bound figure below. Already the man’s bared back was covered in thin cuts from the whip. Rough laughter sounded from the watching orcs. Legolas pushed down his rage at the base actions.

 _Remain calm. This is a small group, easily dispatched of. This man will be saved._ Had it not been so, Legolas still would have done something to aid the prisoner – even if death was the only option. Ending the man’s life with an arrow was better than leaving him to his fate with the orcs. Legolas’s brow furrowed at that dark thought. He’d not often had to imply that sort of action. In fact, he’d only once had to do such an act, when…Legolas shook his head. Now was not the time.

“We must hurry,” he said in hushed tones to his companions. “The human will not last much longer.”

“They are under the influence of Mordor’s wine,” Elladan said, a tone of disgust creeping into his friend’s voice.

Elrohir laid a calming hand on his brother’s taunt arm. “It will only aid in our attack, gwador.”

Elladan gave a curt nod. Another snap of the whip rang out. Another cry from the prisoner replied, weaker this time. The man was fading fast, aided by the orcs inebriated lack of restraint.

“I shall come round the left side if you will take the right, gwadors,” Aragorn said. Elrohir and Elladan nodded in assent. Legolas drew an arrow as they disappeared. He took aim at the large orc standing over the man. A slight flash of color on either side of the camp was all the warning he had before Aragorn and the twins charged in. The orcs stumbled to their feet, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Legolas let loose his arrow. The thin shaft sped true, cleaving through the orc’s sweaty head. The monster lurched a few feet before collapsing down, died. Legolas didn’t pause to relish the victory. Another arrow touched his bowstring, launching itself from it and into the next doomed orc. Cries of anger and fear now sounded from the orcs as they scrambled about. Legolas saw Elladan take down one with a simple upper swipe of his sword, the orcish armor powerless elvish steel.

Aragorn fought against two brutes. Legolas allowed a grime smile to grace his lips. Those orcs thought they had picked the weakest of them. How wrong they were to assume so. Black blood stained the ground as Aragorn finished off his kills. All too soon, the battle was over. Legolas leapt down the rocks, bow still in hand.

“Does he live?” he asked Elladan, indicating the now freed man. Unconscious against the snowy ground, the man seemed closer to death than life to Legolas.

“He does.”

Aragorn joined them. “We should go back to Sybil. There is a cave nearby. We can treat his wounds and rest there.”

Elladan frowned. “We will have to stay the day; he is no condition to travel now.”

Legolas nodded in agreement. He gripped Elladan’s shoulder as Elrohir and Aragorn lifted the man up between them. “It was the right thing to do.”

“I know, mellon nin.” Elladan sighed, running a hand though his black hair. “I only fear staying in these mountains too long. The enemy is ever vigilant, ever seeking. We cannot stay here for more than a day.”

“Agreed.”

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Mary scuttled closer to the unconscious man by the fire. “Will he be all right?”

Aragorn glanced over at her, a kind smile on his face. “Yes. We arrived in time. Eru was merciful this night.”

Mary nodded. “I’ll watch him for you.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at her unprompted help. She blushed, tugging at her sleeve.

“You must be tired from the fight. I would do something to help.”

Aragorn nodded as if that explained some hidden thing to him. She wondered at that. The ranger walked over to his brothers, speaking in low tones that Mary couldn’t hope to hear. She focused instead on the man before her. He was about her own age, with blonde hair and an open face. From his calloused hands, Mary assumed he was a farmer.

Aragorn had bandaged the wounds on his back. She shivered at the memory of those marks. Deep and bloody they’d been. Aragorn had put some salve on them to ease the pain, but Mary was sure they’d still burn when he awoke.

She brushed his bare arm, pulling the blanket on him higher up. His eyes fluttered open. His breath hitched as his eyes searched about. Mary lay, what she hoped, was a calming hand on his chest.

“Rest, friend, you are safe now.”

Blue eyes filled with pain studied her. A soft sigh escaped his dry lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Mary said, but the man was already asleep. Dirt crunched as Elladan crouched beside her. She fixed the blanket more, uneasy. Did Elladan regret having to save this man? Was he angry at the delay? Mary’s grip on the blanket tightened. She hoped her musings were false. Elves were supposed to be people of light and hope, but than many things in books were wrong.

“Thank you,” Mary said, “for saving him.”

“No thanks in necessary.”

“I still give it. You did not have to save him; he is not your kind.”

That comment got her a sharp look. “His heritage means nothing to me. That the orcs harmed him was reason enough to aid.”

A sigh almost escaped her lips at that. “Good.”

“You do not trust me.”

Mary shrugged. “I do not know you.”

“Nor I you, yet I protect you.”

“Only because Lady Galadriel commanded it of you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Mary regretted them. How petty she sounded. These people had done nothing to her. Why did she insist on pushing everyone away?

“I’m sorry. I should not have said that.”

A firm hand laid itself in hers. “You carry much on your shoulder, my lady. I can understand your feelings of mistrust…yet I would counsel you to open your heart once more. All have need of trust, of someone to share their burdens with. Mayhap you will find one such person in Imladris.”

Elladan rose abruptly, leaving her to think over his uncharacteristically kind words. He was right, she knew. She did need someone to share this with. Someone to whom she might tell, at least is part, her secrets. Burin had been close to being that friend. Mary’s eyes misted at the thought of the apprentice. Was he truly dead?

Her heart ached to know this, yet feared the answer. She glanced down at the injured man again.

Perhaps here might be another such person as Burin?

Perhaps, in sharing their tales of captivity, they might form a friendship?

 

…Perhaps, then, she would not be alone.


	8. Strength of Heart

Mary glanced over at the young human, Durian he said his name was, walking next to her. Well, perhaps walking exaggerated it a bit. More like limping with a stick to be exact. Mary took a step closer.

“How are you faring? Do you need rest?”

Durian shook his head hard. “I'm in no need of rest, my lady. The sooner we get away from those mountains the better I shall feel.”

Mary nodded in understanding. She didn't blame him. After all that he'd been through of late – and other torments they did not yet know about – who wouldn't want to leave as quick as possible? She distracted herself from the morbid thoughts by inspecting the forest around her. They had left the mountains far behind early this morning – Elladan had woken them all hours before the sun had shown its face. Now they walked in the enchanted forests near Imladris.

She took a deep breath in, eyes closed for a brief moment. The crisp, cold early winter air filled her lungs. Her lips curled up. She opened her eyes. The red, orange, and brown leaves danced with the soft breezes. Birds flew overhead, chirping to each other. Woodland animals scurried about, eager to store up last minute food for the long winter.

Mary glanced over at Legolas. She wondered if it were hard for the brown haired elf to be in such a place as this. His home must have resembled this forest to some degree, at least before the darkness came to it. Did it hurt him to see that which his home had lost? Mary could not say for certain.

“My lady?”

Mary started. Durian walked a few inches from her. She'd been so lost in thought she had not noticed his proximity. She took a step to the side. “Yes, sir?”

He gave a sad smile. “I am no 'sir', my lady.”

“As I am no 'my lady', only a simple peasant, but yet we both continue to say such titles.”

His face lit up in a real smile now. “Then shall we both mutually agree to forgo the formalities?”

“Agreed.” She raised an eyebrow. “But I sense that this was not what you wished to asked me.”

“Indeed. I…I hope I do not seem forward, but how is it a human woman comes to travel with three elves?”

_Don't tell him, it's a secret!_

_I won't tell him all._

_How can you trust him?_

_Why shouldn't I?_

_You know nothing about him._

_And he knows nothing about me. So we can share information._

She felt her smile fade as she let her memories of her capture come back. She shivered. How close she'd come to living the rest of her days in Mordor. A look of worry crossed Durian's face.

“I press too hard. I apologize –”

“Nay, I only shiver at the memories, for they are unpleasant to recall.” Mary licked her lips as she thought of how to phrase her past here. She didn't want to expose too many details just now. Finally she settled upon a few choice words. “I too came upon hard times. I was rescued and sent with these elves to Imladris.”

“Imladris? What place is this?”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I'm sorry; I know it by its elvish name. In the common tongue, it would be Rivendell.”

“"Ah, now I know it. So this is the place we travel to?”

“Yes. We shall be safe there.”

“Indeed, we shall.”

“And what of you, Durian? Where do you hail from?” She hoped she didn't seem too forward at this. After all, these, unlike hers, were fresh in his mind. She watched a troubled and clouded look pass over him. His grip on his stick tightened until his knuckles showed white. She reached over and gently touched his left hand. He flinched. She jerked her hand back.

“"I apologize,” Mary stammered. “Forget I mentioned this. I should not press for something so soon.”

Durian tried to give a smile, but it somehow came out as a grimace. “Mayhap later I shall be able to tell you. Now, the memories are too close for me.”

Mary started to say something, but then noticed a strangeness about the forest now. No birds flew by. No animals hurried across their path, or beside them. Silence hovered in place now. She frowned.

 _Why's it so quiet?_ She looked to the others. They too, it seemed, had noticed the strange quiet. Their eyes searched the forest, weapons held ready. Suddenly horrible screams filled the air. Mary covered her ears.

Dirty orcs ran out from the shadows. Her elvish companions' swords gleamed bright as they charged forward to meet them. Elladan stayed back near Mary and Durian. He held his scimitar before him, grey eyes watching the rushing orcs. Two orcs broke off from the others. They dashed over towards Elladan.

He raised his sword higher. “Run, my lady, take Durian with you. Go to the east. Imladris's magic will aid you.”

Mary didn't argue, though she felt a coward for obeying without complaint. She grabbed Durian's hand and pulled him as fast as she could to where Elladan had pointed. Stumbling over roots, she led Durian further away from the clashes of the battle. Branches seemed to reach out, pushing her along. She wondered if this was the magic Elladan spoke of.

Then an orc jumped out before her. A scream escaped her lips. She backpedaled, but all for nothing. The orc pressed close. His rusty mace waved danger at them. Mary gripped Durian's hand tight and pulled him behind her. Durian was in no condition to fight. She held his life in her hands.

Mary glanced about for a weapon. A thick branch lay a few feet away. She grabbed it in her left hand, holding it out before her. The orc laughed.

 _As he should._ What good will this do against his iron mace? Mary glared at the orc. I will do my best to harm you before you kill me. I'll give Durian a chance to escape.

She let go of Durian's trembling hand. Her own shook from her rising fear. “Durian, I want you to run.”

“What?”

“Run, while I distract it.”

“No! I shall not leave you alone with that! You will certainly die.”

 _I know that! Stop reminding me before I lose what little courage I have left!_ “Just go, Durian!”

“But –”

“Now!”

Mary never got the chance to know just how far her courage went. A sleek, elvish arrow whizzed by her ear, killing the orc in an instant. Mary screamed again. She squeezed the branch tighter. Her eyes searched for their rescuers, but she saw only the trees. Fear gripped her. Who had helped them? Where they really elvish?

“Who are you?” a voice asked by her side. Mary swung the branch. A pale hand stopped it. Mary tried to wrench it free, but found she could not. She gazed up into the stern eyes of a blond haired elf. He frowned and pulled the branch from her loosened grip.

“I shall not ask again, human, who are you?”

“Sybil, from Bree.” Her breath came out in gasps. Her heart pounded against her chest. “I travel with Lord Elrond's sons and Legolas of Mirkwood.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “How do you come to speak our language?”

“A natural talent, hir nin, I learned when I was little.”

_Liar, liar, LIAR! These lies are going to kill you one day!_

“And just where are these elves you travel with?”

“They…” Horror filled her. “They're back a ways fighting some orcs that attacked us. They told us to run for Imladris. Please, you must go back and help them!”

To her surprise, his eyes softened. “Fear not, they have been helped.”

“Are they well? Was anyone injured?”

“The only injures were on the orcs side.”

She let out a sigh of relief. Another elf appeared. He whispered something to the elf in front of them. He nodded. Mary straightened when he returned his gaze to them.

“My name is Glorfindel. On behalf of Lord Elrond, I bid thee welcome to his realm.”

She curtseyed. “Thank you, hir nin.”

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Imladris, Mary shook her head in wonderment to make sure she wasn't in a dream. She'd read about this legendary city of the elves; seen Peter Jackson's version of it in the movies. Now she rode a mere mile away from actually being in it! She should've been excited about this, not dreading it with every step she took. She should've been ecstatic, but the feeling of anxiety she felt from the surrounding elves with her dampened her mood.

She didn't blame them. With the sudden orc attack, who wouldn't be on edge? Mary knew she felt as if she were walking on thin ice right now. Every tree or shadow seemed to be hiding an orc. Only her chestnut horse, a loan from one of the elves, seemed calm.

If this is how I feel after my first attack, what must people like Legolas and Durian, who deal with it every day, feel like?

_See? You're not the only one who's got trouble, now are you?_

_Be quiet!_

They rode through the front gates. She had to admit Imladris had more color and depth to it than she'd imagined. She'd always dreamed Imladris as a city of white, like in the movies, but now she could see it wasn't even close. It surpassed far beyond what Peter Jackson could ever hope to accomplish – though he'd done a fair job at guessing.

Not gaudy or showy in its color, no, merely a pleasant assortment of everything in harmony. Mary smirked at herself and shook her head. She sounded like a soap opera gone bad.

_Well, that's what you get for being an artist and writer._

_Real supportive._ Mary sighed. _I really should stop talking to myself – or at least stop thinking in the third person. I sound crazy._

“Dismount,” Mary heard from her right. She turned sharply to find Glorfindel. His mistrust of her had lessened to a degree, but Mary could still feel his testing gaze searching her. She hoped she would pass whatever invisible trial he was putting her through. He held up a hand to help aid her in dismounting. She took it gratefully.

“Thank you, hir nin.”

“My pleasure, my lady.”

She slid down, landing on somewhat wobbly legs. Glorfindel tightened his grip on her hand. She laughed at herself. It'd been some time since she'd last been riding. Too much reading inside had taken its toll on her abilities.

“My apologizes, hir nin,” she said to Glorfindel's worried look. “It's been some time since last I sat in a saddle. My legs are trying to remember they can still do it.”

He smiled. “I understand. Tis often this way with many who come here.”

“Then I do not feel so embarrassed.”

His piercing gaze searched her again. What he found, Mary couldn't even begin to guess. She just hoped it was the right thing. Durian's dismounting distracted her. He had more trouble, due to his numerous injuries. She grimaced when he bumped into her side. She rubbed her arm where his elbow hit it.

_Poor man._

A gentle cough brought everyone's attention forward. A well-dressed ellon stood on the stairs. His maroon robe hung loose about his shoulders, girdled by a white rope. His long, black hair complimented his pale face well.

“I am Lord Elrond.” He extended a hand while inclining his head a little. “Welcome to Rivendell.”

A shiver of delight went up and down Mary's spine. The Elrond. She looked upon the Elrond. Elrond, who raised Aragorn. Elrond, who wore one of the three elvish rings. Elrond, who fought in the first war against Sauron. This was one of the best moments of her life ever!

His grey eyes settled on her. Her delight faded a bit. Did he already know about her? Had his sons and Legolas told him everything? What did he think of her? Would he respect her secrets? So many questions pushed through her mind that Mary started to feel dizzy. She wavered on her feet, putting hand to head.

_What's wrong with me? Am I sick?_

A strong hand took hold of her arm. “My lady, are you well?”

She recognized Glorfindel's voice. She tried to smile, but found she'd not the strength to do it. Something was wrong with her. “I…I do not know, hir nin. I feel faint all of a sudden.”

“You have traveled far and need rest,” Lord Elrond said. She felt herself being pulled up the stairs and into the house. They passed through numerous halls. Mary's dizziness increased. Perhaps the journey had taken its toll on her. Maybe sleep would help her reorganize her thoughts.

_Is it the Valar? Is someone trying to read my mind?_

That unnerved her even more. By the time the two elleths Glorfindel gave her to had helped her into a nightgown, Mary was flinching at any touch, her mind convinced everything a plot against her. The elvish women gave her worried looks whenever they thought her not looking. Mary didn't blame them. It troubled her too. What was wrong with her?

She tossed and turned in the bed once they left her alone. The room seemed to spin around her and colors meshed together in a blur. The bed felt like a boat. Her stomach threatened to rebel against her. She moaned at each clench of her stomach.

Someone, a guard maybe, came in at last. He called to someone else outside the room – were they outside the room? – to call for Lord Elrond. Mary hoped the elvish lord would be able to stop whatever ailed her. She didn't think she could take too much more of this. It felt worse than when she'd had gotten chicken pox.

Mary moaned as a dark haired ellon gazed down on her. Sweat ran down her face now.

“My lady, when did you first start feeling this way?” Lord Elrond's voice asked from somewhere above her. She tried to search for his face, but found that the blur of colors refused to abate enough for her to do so.

“When I arrived here.” The short sentence had her gasping for breath.

“I see.” Lord Elrond cleared his throat. “I have the ability to see what ails you, my lady. Perhaps I can take it away, or lessen its effects on you. Will you allow me to do this?”

 _Anything to stop this!_ “Yes.”

Lord Elrond placed cool hands on either side of her head. By now, Mary realized his was the face that swam before her eyes. Something that felt like water rushed through her mind. It knocked near where she kept her secrets but was forced on. It surged through her body, bring relief with it. She closed her eyes as the feeling of illness left her.

Lord Elrond let out a sigh. She opened her eyes to find him frowning at her. She panicked. What had she done now? She hadn't meant to get sick. It'd just happened.

_I'm sorry, please don't be mad!_

He pulled his hands away from her head. “You were poisoned, my lady.”

 _Poisoned! But how?_ “How?”

“I was hoping you could tell me, my lady. It was Orcish poison. Do you remember any orc touching you, no matter how brief the moment?”

Mary searched her memories. “No, I don't think so.”

Had an orc touched her? She didn't think so. But then, everything had happened so fast. Maybe one had.

“You were lucky, my lady. It was only a light dose, meant to weaken you, nothing more.”

Mary shivered. That was only a tiny dose? If that's what a tiny portion of their poison did, she'd hate to find out what a real dose did. What luck that she'd been so close to Imladris. Mary started. Yes, what luck…How lucky was it that she'd been at a place where someone could help her? Where no orcs could get her? Had this been planned?

_Great, just what I need, more paranoia!_

_Well, you did just get poisoned._

_All the more reason to rest._

Mary couldn't agree more with her rational side. Rest sounded like heaven right now. Lord Elrond placed a hand on her head.

“Rest, my lady.”

Mary felt the cool waters rush through her mind again. Her eyes closed and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

The sound of rustling woke Mary. She forced her eyes open. An elleth stood close to her bedside, arranging some flowers. She smiled at her. Mary found her lips curling up in return.

“Ah,” the elleth said, “you are up at last.”

Mary peered out the window. Late afternoon sunlight poured in. “At last? It's only afternoon.”

The elvish woman chuckled. “You have been asleep since yesterday, my lady.”

“Yesterday!”

“Lord Elrond thought it best for you to rest and told us to leave you be.”

Mary struggled out of the bed. All the pains from her journey had left her. She'd not felt this invigorated since before her capture. The urge to explore Imladris grew with each passing moment, as did the need to eat and relieve herself. She glanced down at the smock she wore.

“Is there something I might change into, my lady?”

“My name is, Lilienthal.” The elleth smiled and indicated a chair close by. “There is a dress for you there.”

Mary went to relieve herself, then walked over to the chair. Lilienthal had disappeared by now. Probably to tell Lord Elrond of her awakening. On the chair lay a dress of deep purple. Mary slipped it over the smock. It felt like silk.

She ran a hand over the white lace that lined the modest collar and low waistline. The long sleeves clung tight to her arms in an attractive manner. The hem brushed her ankles. White lace crisscrossed the back – Mary had a bit of trouble tightening those, seeing as she couldn't see them.

A knock startled her from her. Lord Elrond stood at the entrance. Mary bobbed a curtsey.

“My lord, I must thank you for your aid yesterday.”

He gave a slight nod. “Think nothing of it, Lady Sybil.”

_So his sons have told him about me._

Lord Elrond extended a hand to the hallway. “You must be hungry after your long sleep, my lady. Would you care to dine?”

“Thank you, my lord, I would.” Mary smiled as she followed him through the halls. How easy it was for her to fall into their old speech patterns. It made her feel giddy for some reason, almost as if she were…Mary wasn't sure what, but she knew it made her happy to use it. Had she done it back home, on Earth, people would've thought her weird. However, here, they thought it normal.

Lord Elrond led her into a large hall. Many long tables of oak filled the room. Elves of both gender cleaned dishes and food off of them. Some glanced up at her and smiled in welcome. Mary wondered if they knew who she was.

“Grandiel,” Lord Elrond called. A young elleth, at least she looked young to Mary, walked over.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Please fetch Lady Sybil some food.”

“Of course, my lord.” She curtseyed, then disappeared into an adjacent room. She returned soon after with a bowl of hot soup and a plate of warm bread. Mary thanked her. She ate the meal with relish. Lord Elrond left as soon as the food appeared, but asked that she meet with him in his study to talk after she finished. Mary tried to make the meal last as long as she could. She had no desire to talk with Elrond.

 _Probably wants to talk about Lady Galadriel and stuff._ Mary sighed as she finished. _Why doesn't' anyone ever want to just talk to me about me?_

_Cause they can sense the information I have is dire._

_But I can't tell them, I promised!_

Mary walked out of the hall. She stopped an elf passing by. “Excuse me, sir, do you know where I might find Lord Elrond's study?”

“Of course, go two halls down and take the first door on your left.”

“Hannon le, sir.”

She passed down the two halls and came upon a tall door. Above it hung a crest. Single leaf lay in the middle with vines intertwining about it. Mary wondered what it signified. Was it a family crest? Or Imladris'? She shrugged. She'd find out later. She knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Lord Elrond's muffled voce said. She opened the door to find Elrond, his sons, Legolas, and a dark haired elf waiting for her. Suddenly, Mary felt nervous. Why was everyone here? Were they really all waiting for her? If so, why?

Lord Elrond stood. “Lady Sybil, this is Erestor, my chief advisor.”

Mary curtseyed to the ellon. He nodded back, his fair face stern. Mary wondered if he ever smiled at all.

“Come, sit.” Lord Elrond pointed to an open chair. Mary sat down, her nervousness growing.

“My lord, why have you called me here?”

“The Lady Galadriel has appointed me guardian over you.”

“Yes?” Mary didn't want to see where this was going.

“For me to properly protect you, I must know more about you.”

 _Well, that's one way of saying, tell me your secrets._ Mary hid a smirk. She was probably making a mountain out of the tiny mound that was Elrond's query. She smiled at him.

“Of course, my lord. What do you need to know?”

“Where are you from? We know tis not Bree.”

Mary frowned in thought. Why not? It wasn't as if it's help them or Sauron by telling. “A place called Virginia, my lord.”

“Ver-gin-yah?”"

“Yes. It's a large, well, combination of villages.”

“Ah, I see. How far is it from here?”

“I do not know, my lord.”

“Do you have family?”

“Yes. Five younger siblings and three older. My father is dead, but my mother lives.”

“Can you think of any that might wish you harm?”

“Until I arrived here, no.”

Lord Elrond frowned as he processed her words. She did not blame him. A strange human woman who said she lived far away, had family, and no enemies until she came here. Wasn't much to go on for help.

Lord Elrond put his hands behind his back. “And you can tell us nothing else?”

“You mean my knowledge of the future?”

“Indeed.”

“No, my lord, I cannot.” She played with her dress, not daring to look at any of them. “I'm sorry, I wish I could help you, but my knowledge would only harm you.”

“I see,” Lord Elrond said.

_I suppose you would be the only one who could, seeing the future as you do._

“More orcs attacked this morning,” Elladan said. “One of the patrols was hurt.”

 _What in world?_ Mary frowned at her dress. _That's a random report…_ Her thought trailed off into a new one.

 _Or is it? Are they trying to make me feel guilty? Surely they don't blame their injuries on me!_ She searched each of their gazes. Lord Elrond frowned at his son in what seemed to be disapproval. He knew what had been done as well. Mary felt a surge of relief at that, followed by anger.

She stood abruptly. “You do me wrong, Lord Elladan.”

With that, Mary stormed out of the room. She ignored the calls sent after her. Hot tears threatened to fall. She forced them back. She wouldn't show weakness, not to them, not ever again! She turned down the many halls until, at last, she found herself outside in a secluded garden.

A statue of a lady stood in the back corner. Vines grew thick on her form. Mary sat down on the stone bench under the old tree near her. Now tears fell. Why did they only wish for her knowledge? Was that the only reason they protected her? Had she not processed such information, would they've left her with her captors? Why could no one see past this?

She gazed up, tears blurring her vision, into the clear sky. _Am I to be perpetually alone? Is that your will? Can you allow no one to find me who wants to be with me for my own sake, and not my information?_

A soft noise made her stiffen. She rubbed her eyes dry before glancing in its direction. Durian stood nearby, his eyes troubled. He hobbled over slowly, as if nervous of startling her.

“Something has hurt you.” He stood a few feet away now, leaning on his walking stick. “Is there nothing I can do to lesson this?”

Mary stared at him. He shifted from one foot to the other. “Sybil?”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry, it's just…” She looked away. “Not many people seek me out to comfort me. They only wish for information.”

“Information?”

 _Great going, tell him all your secrets, why don't you?_ “I know things, things I shouldn't, that I cannot tell others, though they wish me to.”

Silence followed her words. It lasted so long that Mary began to worry that she'd found yet another person to probe her. Durian sat down on the bench with her. He grunted.

 _Probably from the pain of his injures,_ Mary thought. She shifted further away from him on the seat.

“That must be quite a hard burden to bear.” Mary blinked at him. He smiled. “I hope you do not think me rude when I say, I'm glad I do not possess such a gift.”

Mary laughed. She felt something flutter to life in her. Hope. “No, you're not being rude, only honest. I wouldn't wish this on anyone else either.”

“Come,” Durian held out an arm. “Let us walk and see Rivendell's wonders together.”

Mary glanced at him doubtfully. “But your wounds.”

“They will not mind the added weight. We can comfort each other.”

Mary placed her hand in his. She found a smile curving her lips. Had her prayers been heard? Was this the friend she so hoped for? As Mary walked with Durian she found herself thinking, _yes_.


	9. Grasping for Hope

Lord Elrond came to see Mary later in the week. His fair face was solemn, unreadable, as he approached her. The golden leaves that fell about him seemed to give him an even more regal appearance. He almost appeared wary of talking with her, his footsteps slow and measured. All too soon though, he was beside her, grey eyes gazing down at her in soft questioning.

 _Well, I haven’t been exactly cordial with them, have I?_ Mary frowned at the thought her conscience sent her. _And why should I be? Half of them think I murdered their companions!_

 _Didn’t I though?_ The niggling seed of doubt had planted itself in her soon after Elladan’s silent accusation. Had she murdered those elvish scouts? She’d tried hard to remember any passage about the attack from the books she’d read at home, but nothing stood out.

_But am I just suppressing it to protect myself?_

“My lady, stop,” Lord Elrond said, his voice a soothing calm in the vast storm of her guilt.

 _What do you…Oh!_ Her eyes widened. “How did you know?” _Did he foresee it?_

“Your spirit wavers, my lady.” Lord Elrond stepped closer, his hands clasped before him.

“Oh.” _He can sense other peoples’ spirits? Is it the power that Vilya gives him, or something he’s always had?_

 “May I join you?”

His question jerked her attention back to the present and Mary glanced down at the white-marble bench she sat on for a moment before returning her eyes to the elven lord. “Of course, my lord.”

He sat down with the grace that only an elf could produce. She envied that poise slightly, feeling clumsy and heavy around the nimble footed residents of Imladris. It was at times like this that she somewhat wished she’d taken the Valar up on their hint to make her an elf. Surely, it would’ve made her acceptance that much easier.

Lord Elrond said nothing for a while. Mary reveled in the silence. While she liked Durian, the man always seemed to want to talk, now that he’d opened up to her and become more at ease. He never gave a moments rest. It made her mind swim after a while and she found herself hiding from him on the days where her thoughts troubled her the most, like today. 

At last, Lord Elrond turned to her. “It is hard for you, is it not, my lady?”

“Yes.” He didn’t need to expound on his statement. She knew what he spoke of. She raised tentative eyes to him and took a chance. “But you would know of that, wouldn’t you, my lord.”

His eyebrows lowered a bit and his lips thinned into a line. “So you do know of my gifts.”

 _Is that tension in his tone?_ “Yes.”

His brow creased, emotion showing for the first time in his eyes. “All of them?”

He has to mean Vilya. She glanced pointedly at the ring on his finger. “Yes, my lord.”

She waited for him to speak, but he did not. Instead, he gazed out into the view of the forests before them. _What will he do with me, now that he knows I know?_ Mary felt her anxiety grow with the passing moments. She wished he would tell her his thoughts. That struck her as oddly funny. A mere second ago she had loved the silence of Lord Elrond, and now she hated it.

_I’m such a fickle person, aren’t I?_

Lord Elrond straightened and focused to her again. Mary tensed without meaning to. The elvish lord’s gaze softened. “I do not mean to frighten you, my lady.”

He sighed. “These are unsettling times.”

“Indeed, my lord.”

“Many would seek to use your gift from the Valar for their own gain.”

Mary could only nod, images of the Dram and Sauron filling her mind. She shivered at them. She’d come so close to spending the rest of her days in Mordor, tortured until she broke. Lord Elrond’s hand touching hers made her start. She stared at the elvish lord in surprise. The elves, while open about their feelings and actions, did not initiate physical contact unless towards family members or patients.

 _My fears must be more visible than I thought._  “My lord?”

“I would help you.” He pulled something from his robes pocket.

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Elrond watched as the woman’s hazel eyes narrowed in confusion. Her thin hand twitched toward the ring in his hand, but then withdrew. _So, its power does call to her…good._ It confirmed what he’d already suspected; Araegisess sought to protect her. “Take it, Lady Sybil.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Mary.”

“Pardon?” he asked, though suspicion of what she’d meant tickled his mind.

“My name is Mary, not Sybil.” She looked down, her thin hands clenching together. “I should never have lied about it, but…it was all so sudden, my being sent here, being told no one could know anything, and then the Dram came, and I…they would’ve…I never meant any offense, my lord.”

 “You sought to protect yourself by hiding your real identity.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Her hands rose to her face in an attempt to hide the tears that flowed down her cheeks now. Her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. Too much. Too much had been asked already from this young woman and yet, he felt that she still had a role to play. Elrond laid a gentle hand on her left shoulder. Such a heavy burden on one so young.

He shook his head, eyes rising to the sky for a moment. _Why? Why give such powerful knowledge to this woman? She’s still a child, if not in body than in spirit._

For several minutes, the only sound came from Lady Sib – Mary. He knew not what to say that might comfort her, so he offered the only thing he could. A silent support. Someone who would not judge her for baring her sorrow so openly. Even the trees seemed to lean closer to shelter her from prying eyes.

His hand gave her shoulder a kind squeeze as her sobs quieted and she glanced over at him, eyes red rimmed. He let his worry show through; she needed to know he would aid her in this. She needed a friend who understood the burden of knowing the future and while he might not have her exact gift, his was close enough for him to sympathize. Her eyes widened as his meaning became clear to her. A smile flashed across her lips.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded, hand going back to his lap to take the ring that sat on it. “This will hide your spirit from the Dark One, now that he knows of your existence.”

“He won’t be able to find me?” Such hope burned in those words. Her hand took the ring with barely restrained eagerness.

His heart yearned to say ‘yes’, yet he could only shake his head. “It will not hide you wholly, but enough that you should be safe here.”

“So, he can still find me?” Her lips quivered and her eyes filled again. She was beginning to see her plight now. She would never be safe again. Not as long as the Dark One knew she lived.

“He can only find you if he already knows you’re here and even then, the ring will tell you if one of his agents is near.”

“How?”

“It will tighten.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it go slowly. “What’s its name?”

“Araegisess.”

“What does it mean?”

“Great Protector.”

She chuckled under her breath. “Not quite the imaginative name I was picturing.”

“True.” He smiled.

The woman took a deep breath and gazed down at the silver ring. “Thank you, my lord, I…this means a great deal to me.”

 _I can imagine._ Elrond remembered the first time the Lady Galadriel had shown him how to protect himself and Vilya from the Dark One’s gaze. The relief it brought was indescribable. He stood slowly. “I shall leave you then, Lady Mary.”

 

OoOoOoOo

 

Mary watched him leave, then turned her attention to the small, silver ring in her palm. Such a tiny thing, something she wouldn’t have expected to protect her. _That’s what you get for watching Hollywood movies. You expect something grand and big. Neon signs are even better._

She chuckled softly, fiddling with the ring. Protected. It felt like such a long time since last she’d been protected. Ever since being here, Mary’d had to look out for herself, hide her true identity, trust no one. It’d been a heavy burden to bear, but she’d done it, knowing it was right. Yet now…now she didn’t have to anymore.

This ring, these elves, they’d look out for her from this moment on. And ask for nothing in return…least Elrond won’t.

She slipped the ring on, holding her breath. Nothing happened. Birds chirped and leaves danced in the autumn breeze. The ring felt cold against her skin, normal. She chuckled again. _Thanks Hollywood._

She twisted it around her finger. Such a small thing… Mary shook her head and stood. She needed to think and knew of only one place here that had always offered her peace of mind. She started down the white-stone path towards the direction of the waterfalls. A little bur-marigold flowerbed near the falls had become her sanctuary early on in her stay here.

She caught a glimpse of Durian, the big man laughing with some elves, but avoided asking him to join her. She needed quiet right now, a chance to catch her breath, something she couldn’t do with Durian around. The man meant well, and she truly liked him, but sometimes he was a little too much.

 _Sorry, Durian, maybe later._ She hurried down the stone paths of Imladris until she got to the dirt trail that led to the waterfalls. She glanced about and then knelt to take off her leather moccasins. Instant relief! She giggled softly as she toed the dirt. She hated shoes, even moccasins, always had, even on Earth. Whenever she got the chance, Mary walked around barefooted, except in winter, but only when the air became too cold.  

She gathered her skirts and stepped gingerly down the path, uncaring if any elves might see her open disregard for shoes. The breeze seemed to sense her presence, for it played with her loose hair and tickled her nose with its touch. She let lose a sigh, glad to be free of company for the moment. She paused in her journey when a buck passed in front of her.

The massive animal stopped to study her and she held her breath, afraid to frighten the deer. He had a twelve pint rack, something she knew her hunter friend back home would appreciate. For several moments the two of them gazed at each other. Then, with a snort and shake of his head, the buck jumped away.

She watched him disappear into the thickets before continuing on. She treasured these rare glimpses of nature so unbridled. Being raised in the city as she was, Mary had only ever seen animals in the zoo and a deer once when she’d visited her friend’s home last autumn.

At last, the roar of the waterfalls reached her ears. Mary ran faster, eager to arrive at her refuge. She turned a corner and stopped, taking in the view. Two large waterfalls cascaded down a tall rock. A tiny, almost invisible, rainbow shimmered in the middles of one.

On either side of the waterfalls stood trees with red leaves. Birds flew by and small animals scurried about. She ducked under a fallen oak and arrived at the small, moss covered garden. The yellow bur-marigolds bloomed around the edges of the rocks and trees that hovered overhead. The small floras reminded Mary of Sunflowers.

Mary smiled. This was why she loved this place. Time seemed to mean nothing here, as if a spell had been cast over the place, forever freezing it.

Perhaps Elrond did put a spell on the place. Mary shrugged. It might explain why the spring flowers still grew, but she wouldn’t know for sure until winter came.

She slithered down the grassy hill and sat down on the flat stone in the middle of the place, pulling her knees up to her chest. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of nature take over. Just let it all go. You’re safe now. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes and threatened to spill over again. She forced them back, burying her face in her knees as she took deep breathes. _Come on, calm down, Mary. In, out. In, out. There’s no need to cry a second time. You’re safe._

“My lady?” a refined voice asked.

Mary stiffened. She’d thought herself alone. She wasn’t prepared to entertain someone, her contented mask not yet covering her face. Taking a few moments, she mentally slipped her sorrow to the back of her mind. She raised her head then and searched for the owner of the voice. She found the ellon a few feet to her left, near the entrance of the garden.

Elladan.

The dark haired ellon moved nearer to her. “Are you well, my lady?”

Try as she might, Mary couldn’t stop of glare that rose to her face. Why would he care about her health? He’d made it clear what his stance on her was from the beginning. The only reason she could find for his concern was an attempt to get closer to her and have her accidently spill her secrets to him. Her response felt like frost. “Fine, my lord. You need not concern yourself.”

He frowned a little before sighing. “I suppose I deserve such censure from you.”

 _Duh._ Mary kept that inner sarcasm to herself, curious as to what he might say next.

“One of my friends said he saw you here and I came to apologize for my behavior so far with you.”

He looked a bit expectant after those words, but Mary only smoothed her dress. She wasn’t letting him get off that easy. _If you want forgiveness, you’re going to actually have to do better than that rehearsed speech._

Elladan tilted his head as he considered her. “What must I do to assure you of my good intent?”

“May I be forthright, my lord?”

“I would prefer it.”

“I neither trust nor like you, my lord. You’ve done nothing to endear yourself to me. From the beginning you showed open hostility to me, refusing to accept my answers as truth. And just a few weeks ago, you assigned the blame of an orcish raid on me.” She looked away. “I didn’t want those elves to be harmed. I dislike seeing anyone hurt.”

“I know that now,” Elladan said softly.

She glared at him. “You should’ve known from the beginning. That you did not says that somehow you viewed my actions and words as evil. Answer me truthfully, was it only because of my vow to the Valar that you thought so? Or did I in some way merit this animosity?”

Where these rash words came from, Mary couldn’t say. She’d never been one to speak so to another, always keeping such anger to herself. It had boiled over one time when her brother had teased her too roughly, but the consequences of her quick retaliation had ensured she never let it get that far again. True, he’d given himself the sprained ankle by landing wrong, but she’d been the one to jump him in the first place.

Elladan’s grey eyes exuded sadness. “You did nothing, my lady. It is true, your vow started my mistrust, but I let my prejudice against humans continue it.”

“But…” Mary tried again. “Your own brother, Aragorn, is human.”

“And therein lays my inconstancy.” He faltered. “I see now that I was wrong to come here. I apologize for interrupting you, my lady.”

The keen anguish in her refusal to forgive him was obvious in the way his shoulders hunched a little and his steps hurried away. It pulled at Mary’s heart and, against her better judgment, she called out to him.

“Wait!”

He paused, glancing back at her. “My lady?”

Now that she had his attention, Mary didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t forgiven him, not fully at least, but she couldn’t just let him believe that pardon would never be coming. “I don’t know what you might do to make me believe you, my lord.”

_Well, that was just a great start. Why not rub some acid into his wound as well?_

To her surprise, Elladan’s countenance lightened. “Perhaps, time, my lady?”

“Yes,” she smiled a little. “Perhaps, time.”


	10. To Forgive is Devine

A thick layer of snow wrapped the land that morning when Mary looked out her bedchamber window, making the ground and buildings around sparkle. She loved how snow caused the land look fresh, as if promising a clean start. It always made her feel younger, more alive somehow. Mary shivered against the chilled breeze that brushed against her. The nightdress given to her by the elves did little to block the cold.

_Bloody elves; just because they’re immune to the cold doesn’t mean the rest of us mortals are. You’d think they’d know this by now, especially given Aragorn._

The fact that yesterday had been rather warm and that this was an unexpected snow storm didn’t sway Mary. _What? Is it too much to ask that Elrond have a vision or something?_

She sighed and rubbed her arms. _Stop it. Just because you’re grouchy with Elladan, doesn’t mean you get to act like a Sharpay Evans._

 _Speaking of Elladan…_ She hurried to change into the warm clothes laid by the bed. The velvet, maroon gown slid down effortlessly, ending at her ankles. She brushed smooth the wrinkles on her skirt and tied the strings in the front of her dress tight before pulling on some heavy stockings and boots. She’d lost a little weight these past few months in Imladris. Not by any lack of attention of the elves, of course, just simply the constant exercise she did every day.

Searching every corner of Imladris for a certain grumpy elf helps with that, she mused as she brushed her wild bed-hair and did a simple French-braid.

Elladan avoided her presence as best he could, sometimes hunting for days on end or scouting the outer limits of Lord Elrond’s territory for orcs. Mary had finally pleaded with his family and friends to aid her, but neither group could persuade him to stop, not even his twin. She was beginning to get annoyed. She’d told Elladan that time might heal the hurt he’d dealt her, but without the chance to interact with him, there was no way for her to move past his actions and replace them with newer, more pleasant ones. She sighed as she strolled through the hallways.

_And they say girls are dramatic._

A hand waved to her from her left and Mary grinned in return as Durian strode up. “Good morning, Durian.”

“Good morrow,” he answered, seeming to bounce with just barely checked excitement. “Would you….I would like…That is to say, I wondered if you might like to join me in a walk. The snow had been cleared from the paths.”

She tapped her lip, pretending to contemplate the suggestion. “Perhaps…”

Something flashed across Durian’s face, but it left too quickly for her to discern what it was. His tone came across as stiff when he replied. “If you are otherwise engaged, I apologize for interrupting.”

“No, no, Durian,” she brushed his shoulder as he turned to go, “I’m sorry. I only tease. I’d love to walk with you.”

His face lit with joy as he turned back and he extended his left arm, eyes a bit shy. “In that case…my lady?”

She slipped her hand in, but before she could reply, Mary spotted Elladan emerging from Lord Elrond’s study, hunting bow in hand. It was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. She shot Durian an apologetic look. “Would you mind waiting a moment?”

He glanced down the hall and his brow creased slightly. “Him again.”

“Durian, I need to speak with him.”

“He merely tolerates your attention.” He leveled a smile of pity at her. “You are but a child to him.”

She blushed and jerked her hand from his arm. “It’s not like that!”

“No?”

“Durian, please, he and I had a disagreement and I only wish to reconcile.”

His features softened and most of the pity left his dark eyes, replaced by something bashful. “Of course. I…I remember your tale from before. I’m sorry, I was rash. It’s…”

“I understand.” She squeezed his arm and then hurried down the hall. “I will be back soon.”

She didn’t hear his reply and pushed that unpleasant mix-up from her mind. She in love with Elladan? She chuckled. As if. Another hall down and Mary sped up. She had to catch Elladan before he succeeded in disappearing for another week.

 _Stupid, elf! Worse than my little brothers, and they’re teenagers!_ She rounded a corner and found it empty. _Darn it! Did he spot me?_ She hurried down some stairs. Bloody elf probably had seen her and run off, again. Mary nearly crashed into Legolas at the next corner. Only the nimble skills of the woodland elf - spinning on the ball of his right foot and springing a few feet back – prevented the embarrassment. Cheeks hot, Mary grinned sheepishly.

“I apologize, Legolas. I didn’t mean to surprise you like that. Well, I mean, that is, I didn’t mean to surprise you at all. I just didn’t see you. I mean, I saw, but not in time,” She floundered, caught between propriety and finding Elladan in time. “Of course, with the way I was running it was inevitable, which isn’t any excuse. I’m not excusing my behavior, I’m just…rambling on and looking like a fool.” 

“Peace, Lady Mary.” He laughed and laid a strong hand on her shoulder. “No harm was done, though I do wonder at your hurry. It’s not often I see you in such haste. Perhaps, I might be of aid?”

“I’m trying to find Elladan,” Mary said. “I saw a glimpse of him a few moments ago, but he’s vanished. Please, have you seen him? Did he go down this hall? I must speak with him.”

A shadow passed over Legolas’ features. “I believe he’s gone to the stables.”

She paused her anger just in case. “Has there been another orc attack?”

“No, none.” Legolas sighed. “And the storerooms are bursting.”

“And he hasn’t been called anywhere by his commander or father?”

“No.”

This is getting ridiculous! She growled as she stepped around Legolas. “Again, he avoids me. This is getting silly.”

“Indeed,” Legolas agreed.

“Unbelievable.” Mary shook her head and gave a polite smile. “My thanks for the information. And, again, my apologies for the rude encounter. I promise to talk more with you later, there are some books I’ve found about Mirkwood that speak of a few legends, but I really do need to speak with Elladan.”

Legolas chuckled as she started off down the hallway. “Try not to maim him to badly, my lady.”

“I make no promises!” She shouted back as she ran down the stairs. A rich laugh echoed through the corridor.

Outside she nearly slipped on some ice at the top step, but righted herself just in time. She inched as fast as she could down the stairs and then hurried, skirt lifted a bit up to aid in her speed, to the stables. Snow crunched under her boots and flakes kissed her face as she raced down the winding paths, skirting around several startled couples with a brief ‘excuse me’. _Please, don’t be gone yet, please,_ she pleaded. _Wait, is that? Yes!_

Ahead she could see the stables and near the entrance Elladan, his back turned to her.

 _No horse in sight,_ she noted. _Good, he just got here then._

She slammed to an abrupt halt at his side, almost colliding into the stable door as her boots skidded on the mushy snow. Elladan blinked at her, eyes a bit wide. She bent over and gasped for breath, holding her hand against the sudden cramp in her stomach. Elladan backed a step and opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a glare.

“Don’t…you…even…think…of running…away from me!” she wheezed, straightening up and hiding the wince when her cramp stretched. “We need to talk.”

“My lady, I apologize, but I’m needed by my commander.”

“Poppycock!” she snapped, trembling with anger.

“My lady, I really must insist –”

“You’re no more needed at the borders or forests than I am. I asked Legolas,” she spat out as she threw decorum and manners out the window. “And all the cellars are full and paths are cleared, so there’s nothing needing your attention.”

“Legolas –”

“Is just as worried as I am,” Mary took a step forward. “Please, my lord, stop avoiding me. And don’t even think of saying you’re not, because I and everyone else in Imladris know that’s a lie….well, maybe it wasn’t last week with the orcs…but all those other times!”

Elladan stayed strangely quiet.

“I’m not angry with you, my lord, I never was,” Mary checked herself, “Okay, maybe a little cross, but it’s in the past. How can time heal things between us, if you keep running away?”

_Okay, that last part didn’t come out right._

A problem Mary had when she got angry is that she sometimes couldn’t control her tongue and it’d get too honest. Nothing was ever said that didn’t come from the truth, it just wasn’t…said diplomatically. She glanced up at Elladan. He still didn’t say anything, merely stared at her with old eyes and a blank face. She really hoped elves weren’t like samurai and that she had just insulted his honor or something.

_Just great. My first attempt at friendship and I accuse him of being a coward. Way to go Mary. Way. To. Go._

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you…I’ll…I’ll just go.”

She left him standing there by the stable, her heart plummeting to her boots. How could she insinuate cowardliness. She knew better. She had brothers, for heaven’s sake! Courage was a big thing to them. Why should male elves be any different? She’d just ruined everything. Tears burned the edges of her eyes, so much so that she bumped into someone.

“Oh.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“What is wrong, Lady Mary?” Legolas’ voice asked. “Did Elladan –?”

“I tried to speak to him, but I got angry and ended up insulting him instead. I didn’t mean to, it just happened.” Mary raised watery eyes. “He probably hates me now.”

Legolas gave a kind smile and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “I cannot believe Elladan hates you. He might be a little shocked you lost your temper, but that is all.”

“I called him a coward.”

“And he has been,” Legolas stated firmly. “Come, let us break our fast. I’m sure a full stomach will help calm you. We can ask Lord Elrond’s advice.”

The last thing Mary wanted to do was speak to Elladan’s father and admit she’d yelled at his son. Lord Elrond could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be. “I’ll call on him later. Durian has asked that I walk the paths with him and I don’t want to appear lax in my promises.”

Legolas leveled a knowing look at her. “I’ll find you after the noon meal then?”

“A-all right.”

“Good.” Legolas steered her into the Dining Hall. “Now, about these legends of Mirkwood you spoke about earlier…”


	11. Moving On

The waters roared with vigor even amidst the mounding snow and ice. They pushed through the icy temperatures fragile attempts to freeze it and gushed over the rocks. Mary shivered and grasped the fur edges of her mantle, pulling them tight to keep the chill out. She glanced down and smiled. I look like a cardinal or, better yet, Little Red Riding Hood. The burgundy of the mantle really did stand in stark contrast to the white around her.

            The fur hood ruffled around her face as a cold wind picked up. Her smile grew. She’d always loved this time of year. While autumn might be her favorite, winter came a close to beating that. The purity and silence of the land touched some part of her soul.

A branch snapped close by and Mary whirled to find Durian standing not a few feet away, his sheepish grin on his face. The man ducked his head and fidgeted a little with the thick material of his tunic. He glanced up.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He slid down a small mound of snow, off the path and into the small vale where Mary stood. “It seems you’ve beaten me again to our spot.”

Our spot. The phrase sent a tingle through Mary. She’d never had a “special place” with someone in her time period. Everyone seemed in too much hurry to slow and find such a spot. Besides, if they did Mary suspected it might be the theaters or a rock concert. But here….here people appreciated the joy of such a discovery. She liked it.

A pang of sorrow flashed through her as Burin’s kind face appeared in her mind. He’d had a special spot for them too. The large oak on the north side of town. The gnarled thing had a perfect low branch that he used to help her sit on. That was where he’d asked her to the autumn dance.

But he’s dead and it’s time I moved on with my life. 

She’d made that decision yesterday, but saying and doing were two very different things. Her heart still longed for Burin, even if her head knew he was gone. He’d died trying to save her from the Dram, which only made her resolution bitterer to swallow. Still, she knew it needed to be done.

And Durian’s not such a bad man. 

Yes, he had his faults, but then so did Mary. He cared for her, made her smile at his clumsy attempts of wooing. He respected her privacy, yet also made sure she was never alone for long. Yes, Mary thought as she took one last look at the raging waters before them. It’s high time I put Burin to rest.

“Mary?”

She turned to Durian. “Sorry. I was just…saying goodbye.”

“Was he a good man?”

Sometimes Durian’s perceptiveness surprised her. She smiled sadly at him, tears springing up. “Very much so.”

“I’m sure he loved you and intended to marry you at some point.”

“How did you know it wasn’t a friend I mourned?”

Durian ducked his head a moment, but then looked up. “Forgive my forwardness, but I could tell that you were tempted by my offers, yet you still refused them. And always with a sad regret. It couldn’t have been a sister or friend, that made no sense, but a former love?”

Mary clenched her mantel tight. “Very astute of you.”

He shrugged. “I do not wish to replace him, Mary. If it’s too soon, tell me. I’m willing to wait.”

She laughed softly. What had she ever done to deserve not one, but two good men in her life? She shook her head. “No, it’s been long enough. And you’ve been most patient with me. It’s time I laid his spirit to rest.”

“Ah, so he is dead.” Durian’s eyes dimmed and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.  I am sorry.”

            Mary’s slumped a little. “I know.”

“There’s a custom in my town for those departed.” Durian shuffled from one foot to the other and bit his lip. “Perhaps, if you are willing, we might perform it together this evening?”

“Together?”

He tentatively took her hands in his and squeezed them, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I want to let him know I will watch over you for him.”

“He’d like that.” Mary breathed.

“I was hoping so.”

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~

 

A mist had settled itself about the edges of the riverbed. The torches in their hands gave off an eerie glow. Mary clutched the bouquet in her hand. As it was winter there’d been no flowers, but Mary still wanted to send something into the river to commemorate Burin’s spirit. So she’d hunted about and made one from pine branches, holly, and several cones, tying them together with a white ribbon. It looked simple, but then Burin had liked things uncomplicated so Mary thought he wouldn’t mind.

Durian stood next to her, his breath coming out in white puffs. His cheeks and tip of his nose were already red from the cold. A sad smile danced across his lips as he glanced at her. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she said, straightening. This had to be done if she was ever to move on and live her life. Burin would want that. She crouched down by the riverbank. “Are there any words we say?”

“Only those in our heart and they are silent.” Durian answered as he too knelt by the river. He reached out and tossed a small pouch far into the waters. Then he closed his eyes. His lips moved, but no sound escaped them.

Mary laid her own bouquet in the river and closed her eyes. Hey, Burin. It’s me. Mary. I just…I miss you. Gosh, do I miss you. So much my heart aches. Great, now I’m crying. Happy now?

Mary wiped the tears away, but didn’t open her eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever find love, but I think I found it with you. I want you to know I’ll always love you, but that I’m going to also let my love for Durian grow. He can look after me now. Just…give him a few hints along the way, kay? He’s a bit hopeless like that. A little clumsy too. I think you’d have liked him.

Mary opened her eyes and let out a slow breath. She gazed into the star speckled sky. The tiny lights twinkled and winked at her, as if reassuring her that everything would be all right now. One last tear traveled down her cheek. Bye Burin. I hope Ilath accepts you into His fold and that you’ll continue to watch over me from up there.

When she took Durian’s warm hand and left with him, Mary didn’t look back. She’d laid Burin to rest. The past was in the past. She needed to focus on the future and what she wanted from life. Behind her the river roared, taking Durian’s and her prayers with it; before her shone the lights from Lord Elrond’s home.


	12. Life Goes On

The grey haired man stepped out of the hut, shivering slightly in chilled breeze. He was well into his eighties now. Much too old to be out in this autumn air. He scanned the grassy plains for his wife. She always had a habit of stepping outside to watch the sun set in the west. She said it stemmed from having lived in a large town all her life. Things such as sunsets and starry skies were not common. It was one of the few little hints she’d given about her former life. He’d never pressed for more.

Scanning once more, Durian found his quarry standing some feet away, long dress waving in the breezes.

His eyes crinkled as his lips curled into a loving smile. He strode up behind her, wrapping warm arms around her thin body. His wife leaned back against him. Mary wasn’t much younger than he, close to her seventieth year, yet she seemed as young and innocent as the day he’d met her.

“Happy?” he asked.

A contented sigh escaped her. “Is it not beautiful?”

Durian followed her gaze. Orange and purple hues lined the evening sky as the red sun sank below the dark hills. He had to admit, it was a sight to behold. He hugged her closer, breathing in her hair’s perfume.

Herbs. The scent of his beloved’s healing herbs always seemed to linger on her. Gave her an earthy smell. He loved that.

Mary glanced back at him, hazel eyes amused. “Are you smelling me again?”

He chuckled softly. “Perhaps.”

A grin grew across her wrinkled face. “Some might find that odd.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” She snuggled back against him, arms encircling his. “But I love your oddities.”

“Many thanks.”

She elbowed him for his sarcasm. “No thanks is needed, good sir.”

He pulled her around to face him, kissing her chastely. She kissed him back. He laid his chin on the top of her head. “Gandalf was in Bree today.”

He felt her look up. “Really? What did he want?”

“He stopped to get some supplies. Several dwarves traveled with him. He said they were going to visit a friend of his called Bilbo.”

His wife trembled. It took him a moment to realize she was trying to keep in a laugh. He pulled back and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Do you know something about this?”

She threw an impish smile his way. “Things are about to get very interesting, Durian. Very interesting indeed.”


End file.
